#the way his fingers move on her face and the way her hand tightens on the back of his neck | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dandelions-143 · 2 days ago

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Obsession 2

Obsession Part 1

Minho Masterlist

Member Masterlist

Pairing: Non- Idol, Rich Minho x Curvy/mid-size Dancer

Word Count: 8386

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Sexual content, Violence and physical abuse, Emotional manipulation, Dubious consent, Power imbalance in relationships

Summary: The usually cold, calm, and collected Minho is losing his grip. He’s losing his control all due to his intense feelings for his little dancer…

Minho glanced over at his friend Hyunjin, who sat rigid in the passenger seat of the sleek black Lexus LX. The leather interior creaked as Minho shifted, his voice low and cautious. "Are you absolutely certain about this, Hyunjin? This isn't like our usual... activities. Once we cross this line, there's no turning back."

Minho's eyes flickered to Hyunjin's face, noting the taut line of his jaw and the barely contained fury in his eyes. A muscle twitched near Hyunjin's temple, a telltale sign of his suppressed rage. Minho understood his friend's anger all too well. The man they had bound and gagged in the trunk of the SUV had committed an unforgivable act - he had dared to lay his hands on the woman Hyunjin cherished above all else.

The weight of what they were about to do hung heavy in the air between them. Minho's fingers tightened on the steering wheel, the leather creaking under his grip. He could feel the thrumming of the engine, a stark contrast to the eerie silence inside the vehicle. In the rearview mirror, he caught a glimpse of the deserted road behind them, stretching out into the darkness.

"He deserves everything that's coming to him," Hyunjin muttered, more to himself than to Minho. The words tasted bitter on his tongue, a mix of righteousness and something darker, something that sent a chill down his spine despite the warmth of the car.

"I've made up my mind," Hyunjin's voice was cold, devoid of its usual warmth. His eyes, usually bright and expressive, now held a dangerous glint. "No one hurts her anymore... not me... not anyone." He turned to face Minho, his gaze unflinching. "I'm doing this."

With those words, Hyunjin reached for the door handle. The soft click of the latch seemed to echo in the tense silence. As he stepped out, the crisp night air rushed in, carrying with it the scent of pine and damp earth. Minho hesitated for a split second before turning off the engine, plunging them into darkness save for the faint glow of the dashboard lights.

Minho exited the car, his shoes crunching on the gravel. The sound seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet forest clearing. He made his way to the trunk, where their captive, Joo Won, lay bound and gagged. Even through the metal of the car, Minho could hear the muffled screams and the dull thuds of Ji Won's attempts to free himself.

As Minho's hand hovered over the trunk release, he caught Hyunjin's eye. In that moment, a silent understanding passed between them. There was no going back now. With a deep breath, Minho pressed the button, the trunk slowly opening to reveal their terrified prisoner. Joo Won instantly started screaming and cursing at them. Some how the idiot managed to get the tape halfway off his mouth.

"You fucking pricks!" Joo Won bellowed, his voice echoing in the clearing. His eyes, wild with fear and rage, darted between Minho and Hyunjin. Spittle flew from his lips as he continued his tirade, "You'll pay for this! You won't get away with this! I'll have your heads for-"

The rest of his threat was cut short as Minho's fist connected with his temple. The sound of the impact was sickeningly loud in the quiet forest. Joo Won's head snapped back, his eyes rolling up as consciousness fled. His body went limp, sagging against the edge of the trunk.

Minho flexed his hand, his knuckles already reddening from the force of the blow. His voice was barely above a whisper, cold and detached. "You talk too fucking much."

Without a word, Hyunjin moved to help. Together, they grasped Joo Won's unconscious form, one taking the shoulders, the other the feet. The man's dead weight was substantial, and they grunted with effort as they maneuvered him out of the trunk. Joo Won's head lolled lifelessly as they carried him, a thin trickle of blood now visible at his temple where Minho's fist had connected.

They carried Joo Won's unconscious body across the clearing, their footsteps muffled by the carpet of pine needles. The abandoned garage loomed before them, a dark silhouette against the night sky. Its weathered wooden doors creaked ominously as Hyunjin pushed them open with his shoulder.

The interior of the garage was musty and thick with the scent of old motor oil and rusted metal. Minho fumbled for a moment before finding the light switch. A single bare bulb flickered to life, casting long shadows across the cluttered space.

"Over there," Minho grunted, nodding towards a sturdy wooden chair in the corner. They maneuvered Joo Won's limp form into the seat, his head lolling forward onto his chest. Hyunjin quickly set about securing him with rope, his movements efficient and practiced.

As Hyunjin worked, Minho took a moment to survey their surroundings. The garage, once his father's pride and joy, now stood as a silent witness to their dark intentions. Tools hung on the walls, their edges dulled by time and neglect. A workbench stood against one wall, its surface covered in a thick layer of dust.

With Joo Won securely bound, Minho and Hyunjin stepped back, exchanging a loaded glance. The reality of what they were about to do settled over them like a heavy shroud. In the harsh light of the single bulb, their faces looked gaunt and haunted, shadows deepening the hollows of their eyes.

"Wake the fuck up!" Hyunjin snarled, his foot connecting hard with Joo Won's leg. The impact reverberated through the chair, causing it to teeter precariously. The wooden legs scraped against the concrete floor, the sound echoing in the dimly lit garage. For a heart-stopping moment, it seemed as if both Joo Won and the chair would topple over, but they settled back with a dull thud.

Joo Won's head snapped up violently, his neck muscles straining from the sudden movement. His eyes, bloodshot and wide with panic, darted around the room. Confusion clouded his features for a split second before raw, unbridled fear took over. His chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths, each one punctuated by a small, terrified whimper.

As consciousness fully returned, Joo Won's gaze locked onto the two figures looming over him. Minho stood slightly back, his face an impassive mask, while Hyunjin's presence was more immediate, more threatening. Joo Won's eyes flicked between them, searching desperately for any sign of mercy or hesitation. Finding none, he felt the last vestiges of his earlier bravado crumble away.

"W-what... what do you want from me?" Joo Won stammered, his voice cracking. Saliva pooled in his mouth, making his words come out thick and slurred. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. A bead of cold sweat trickled down his temple, leaving a glistening trail on his pale, clammy skin. His fingers, bound tightly behind his back, twitched and trembled, searching fruitlessly for any weakness in his restraints.

Hyunjin leaned in close, his breath hot on Joo Won's face. The scent of fear emanating from Joo Won was palpable, mixing with the musty air of the garage. Hyunjin's eyes, usually warm and friendly, now burned with a cold fury that would send a chill down anyone’s spine. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously soft, barely above a whisper, yet it carried clearly in the tense silence.

"What do we want?" he echoed, his words dripping with venom. He paused, letting the question hang in the air, watching as Joo Won's eyes widened in terror and pool with tears. "We want you to suffer, just like you made her suffer. Every bruise, every tear, every moment of fear - you're going to feel it all."

Minho stepped back, the soles of his shoes scraping against the concrete floor as he leaned against the far wall. His face was an impassive mask, but his eyes never left the scene unfolding before him. He crossed his arms, the leather of his jacket creaking softly, as he watched Hyunjin reach into his pocket.

The sound of metal sliding against fabric filled the air as Hyunjin pulled out a set of brass knuckles. The weapon gleamed dully in the dim light, its surface pitted and scarred from previous use. With practiced ease, Hyunjin slipped them onto his fingers, flexing his hand to ensure a snug fit.

The harsh angles of the weapon seemed to accentuate the cold determination in his eyes. As he raised his fist, the brass knuckles caught the light again, this time reflecting it directly into Joo Won's terrified eyes. The man whimpered, his bound body trembling in anticipation of the pain to come.

"No, please," Joo Won whimpered, his voice cracking with fear. Tears welled up in his eyes as he struggled against his bonds, the rough rope digging into his wrists. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" His desperate plea was abruptly silenced as Hyunjin's fist, now a lethal combination of flesh and metal, connected with his jaw. The sickening crunch of bone meeting brass reverberated through the garage, a sound that seemed to hang in the air for an eternity. Joo Won's muffled cry of agony followed, a guttural, animalistic sound that spoke of pure, unadulterated pain.

Minho stood motionless, his face an impenetrable mask of indifference. His cold, calculating eyes swept over the scene before him, taking in every detail with clinical detachment. Almost involuntarily, his gaze flickered down to his watch, the subtle movement betraying a hint of impatience. In his mind's eye, he could see his dancer, her lithe form moving gracefully as she began her shift. The urge to be there, watching her, observing every nuance of her performance, gnawed at him relentlessly. He felt a sudden, powerful impulse to leave, to abandon this grim scene and lose himself in the mesmerizing rhythm of her dance. But a sense of loyalty, as cold and unyielding as his exterior, kept him rooted to the spot. He knew he couldn't leave Hyunjin here alone, not with what they had started.

The abrupt cessation of violence snapped Minho's attention back to the present. The silence that descended upon the garage was deafening, a stark and jarring contrast to the cacophony of brutality that had filled the air moments before. The sudden quiet seemed to have a weight of its own, pressing down on them with an almost tangible force. Minho's muscles tensed as he pushed himself off the wall, his movements deliberate and controlled. He took a measured step towards where Hyunjin stood, looming over Joo Won's slumped, battered form. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, the aftermath of violence hanging heavy in the musty garage air.

Even though Joo Won was knocked out cold, Hyunjin continued his assault with a terrifying intensity. His fists, now slick with blood, rose and fell in a brutal rhythm. Each impact produced a sickening sound - a mix of flesh yielding and bone creaking under the relentless force.

"Hyunjin, I think you've taught him a lesson," Minho said firmly, his voice cutting through the violent cacophony. The words seemed to hang in the air, unacknowledged.

Hyunjin appeared lost in a trance-like state, his eyes glazed over with a mixture of rage and something darker. Sweat poured down his face, mingling with specks of Joo Won's blood. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, punctuating each blow. "Jesus Christ..." Minho muttered under his breath, a hint of annoyance creeping into his usually composed demeanor.

With a swift movement, Minho lunged forward. His hands clamped down on Hyunjin's shoulders, muscles straining as he forcibly pulled his friend back. "That's enough," he growled, his grip on Hyunjin's arm tightening to the point of bruising. Minho stepped closer to Joo Won and roughly took hold of his face to get a better look at him. Joo Wons blood getting on Minhos hand as he peered down at the lifeless man. "He's out cold. We don't want to kill him. Just send a message."

Hyunjin's chest heaved with ragged breaths, the adrenaline slowly ebbing from his system. His knuckles, raw and bloody beneath the brass, trembled slightly. Slowly, as if emerging from a fog, his gaze focused on Joo Won's battered face. The man was barely recognizable, his features a swollen, bloody mess. A mix of emotions flickered across Hyunjin's face - satisfaction, horror, and a dawning realization of the extent of his actions. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of their labored breathing and the occasional groan from their unconscious victim.

A muscle ticked in Hyunjin's jaw as he backed away, his chest heaving with exertion. He threw the brass knuckles down with a clatter, the sound echoing in the musty garage. "Fine," he mumbled, his voice hoarse from the intensity of his earlier shouting. With trembling fingers, he ran his blood-stained hand through his sweat-damp hair, leaving behind streaks of crimson.

"Come on, let's get this piece of shit back so I can get cleaned up. I've got somewhere to be," Minho said to Hyunjin, his tone clipped and businesslike. His eyes darted to his watch, a subtle reminder of the ticking clock and the life that awaited them beyond this grim scene.

Hyunjin nodded, his breathing still labored, each exhale carrying the weight of what they'd just done. He glanced at Joo Won's unconscious form, slumped in the chair like a broken marionette. A flicker of uncertainty crossed Hyunjin's face - a momentary crack in his hardened exterior - before his expression set once more into grim determination. Together, they approached the chair, the floorboards creaking under their feet. Their hands moved with practiced efficiency as they began to untie Joo Won, the rope rough against their fingers. Despite the gravity of their actions, their movements were quick and precise, a testament to a familiarity that spoke volumes about their shared past.

As they hauled Joo Won's unconscious form back to the car, the weight of their actions pressed down on them like a suffocating blanket. The forest around them seemed to close in, the trees looming ominously, their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers. The rustle of leaves in the night breeze sounded almost like whispers of judgment, as if nature itself was recoiling from the violence that had just transpired.

Minho's muscles strained under Joo Won's dead weight, and he could feel Hyunjin's labored breathing beside him. The moonlight filtering through the canopy cast eerie shadows on the forest floor, making their trek back to the car feel like a surreal journey through a nightmarish landscape.

—

Upon reaching Joo Won's neighborhood, they unceremoniously dumped his battered body on his front lawn. The thud of flesh hitting grass seemed to echo in the quiet suburban night. After dropping Hyunjin off at his apartment, the silence in Minho's car became oppressive, filled with unspoken thoughts and the lingering scent of violence.

Minho finally entered his own apartment, the sudden stillness a jarring contrast to the chaotic energy of the night. The soft click of the door closing behind him sounded final, like the period at the end of a dark chapter. He made his way to the bathroom, his footsteps echoing hollowly in the empty space. His movements were mechanical, almost robotic, as if his body was operating on autopilot while his mind grappled with the events of the night.

Stepping into the shower, Minho turned the water on full blast. The scalding spray hit his skin like a thousand tiny needles, each droplet a searing reminder of the night's events. He welcomed the pain, his muscles tensing and then slowly relaxing under the relentless assault of hot water. Steam began to rise, filling the small bathroom with a thick, oppressive heat that matched the turmoil in his mind.

As the water cascaded over his body, Minho watched with a detached fascination as rivulets of pink-tinged water swirled down the drain. The sight of Joo Won's blood mixing with the clear water was mesmerizing, a visual representation of how the violence of the night was being washed away. Yet, even as the physical evidence disappeared, Minho knew that the memory – the weight of his actions – would linger far longer than any visible stain.

The steam continued to build, transforming the bathroom into a foggy cocoon. The mirror gradually clouded over, obscuring Minho's reflection and creating a barrier between him and the outside world. It was as if the fog in the bathroom mirrored the haze that had settled over his conscience, blurring the lines between right and wrong, justice and vengeance.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as Minho stood under the relentless spray. The water began to cool, but he barely noticed, lost in a swirl of thoughts and rationalizations. Finally, when the water ran ice cold, shocking him back to reality, Minho stepped out of the shower. His skin was red and raw from the prolonged exposure to the hot water, a physical manifestation of the emotional rawness he felt inside.

With mechanical precision, Minho dried himself, his movements slow and deliberate. Each pat of the towel revealed more of his battle-worn body. A long, jagged scar ran from his left shoulder down to his ribcage, a reminder of a knife fight from years ago. Smaller, circular scars dotted his torso, testaments to bullet wounds barely survived. As he dragged the towel across his arms, the raised edges of burn scars became visible, a patchwork of pain etched into his skin.

As the fog in the bathroom began to dissipate, tendrils of steam curling away to reveal the mirror, Minho found himself face to face with his reflection. The clarity of the image stood in stark contrast to the moral ambiguity he felt. His eyes, usually sharp and focused, now held a haunted look. He stood there, naked and vulnerable, his scarred body a roadmap of violence and survival. The mirror reflected not just his physical form, but the weight of his actions and their consequences. A particularly nasty scar across his abdomen seemed to throb, as if reminding him of the brutality he was capable of. He truly hated himself at times.

Minho began to dress, each item of clothing concealing another layer of his scarred history. He slipped on a crisp white shirt, buttoning it up with steady fingers, hiding the web of scars across his chest. Next came the tailored black trousers, covering the burn marks on his legs. As he shrugged on the sleek black jacket, it masked the uneven texture of his scarred shoulders. Finally, as he knotted his black tie, Minho felt himself slipping back into his usual persona - cool, collected, untouchable. The suit became his armor, hiding the physical reminders of his violent past beneath its impeccable surface.

Finally, he shrugged on his signature black suit jacket. As he smoothed down the lapels, Minho took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. The night's events were now just a memory, carefully locked away behind the impeccable facade of his black suit. He was ready to face the world again, ready to watch his dancer perform, as if nothing had ever happened. Despite this his still felt slightly on edge.. like any little thing could set him off.

Twenty minutes later, Minho was stepping into the gentlemen's club, his senses immediately assaulted by the ambiance. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. Soft, sultry music wafted through the air, punctuated by the melodic tinkling of ice in crystal glasses and the low hum of hushed conversations. The scent of expensive cologne and perfume mingled with the faint aroma of cigars, creating an intoxicating atmosphere.

Minho's polished shoes clicked against the hardwood floor as he made his way towards the darkened hallway. This was his usual route, leading to the private room reserved exclusively for him and his dancer. The familiarity of the path did little to quell the anticipation building within him. However, his purposeful stride was abruptly halted by a sound that sent a chill down his spine - a deep, rumbling laugh he knew all too well, followed by his father's commanding voice filling the room.

Slowly, Minho turned, his body tense with apprehension. He expected to see his father engaged in some typical activity - perhaps enjoying the company of a random dancer, indulging in a lavish meal, or sharing drinks with his business associates. After all, this was his father's club, and his presence here was not uncommon. But as Minho's eyes adjusted to the dim light and focused on the scene before him, a white-hot rage began to build within him, threatening to consume him entirely.

There, in the center of the room, sat his father, but it wasn't just any dancer perched on his lap. It was you - Minho's dancer, the one he had claimed as his own. His father's large, weathered hands roamed over your body with a familiarity that made Minho's blood boil. Those filthy hands caressed your hips, fingers splayed possessively across your skin. They lingered on your thighs, inching higher with each passing moment. Minho's jaw clenched, his fists balling at his sides as he watched, paralyzed by shock and fury.

But it was the next moment that shattered Minho's last shred of control. His father, emboldened by the intimate setting and perhaps by the alcohol coursing through his veins, reached up and gripped one of your breasts. The lewd gesture, so blatant and disrespectful, was the final straw. Something deep within Minho snapped, a primal, possessive instinct taking over. His vision blurred, tinged with red as rage consumed him. In that moment, all thoughts of propriety, of family ties, of potential consequences vanished. All Minho knew was that he had to act, to reclaim what was his, to punish those who dared to touch what belonged to him alone. His father had taken so much from him through out his life but he was not going to take you.

You flinched as his calloused hand made contact with your skin, a wave of revulsion washing over you. Men weren't supposed to touch you like this, but this wasn't just any man - it was your boss, the owner of the club. Your stomach churned as you realized your powerlessness in this situation. Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to regain composure, plastering a saccharine smile on your face that didn't reach your eyes. You leaned into him, every fiber of your being screaming in protest as you did so. The scent of his expensive cologne mixed with cigar smoke assaulted your senses, making you want to gag. Your skin crawled as his meaty hands roamed over your body, leaving invisible trails of disgust in their wake.

The older man's lips, dry and rough, grazed your shoulder. You couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through you, your body instinctively trying to recoil from his touch. Just as you were about to force yourself to endure more, a strong hand suddenly gripped your arm, yanking you away from your boss's embrace. The abrupt movement left you disoriented for a moment. "Minho?" The name escaped your lips in a whisper, more to yourself than anyone else, as your eyes focused on the familiar face contorted with rage.

Before you could fully process what was happening, Minho's hand shot out, gripping his father's expensive silk shirt. In one fluid motion, he pulled the older man to his feet. The crack of Minho's fist connecting with his father's face echoed through the room, the force of the blow whipping the older man's head back. You watched in stunned silence as Minho landed two more vicious punches, each impact punctuated by a sickening thud. Blood sprayed from his father's split lip, staining the pristine white of his shirt.

The commotion finally stirred the bodyguards into action. They rushed forward, their large frames filling your vision as they struggled to pull Minho away from his father. Minho fought against their grip, his muscles straining as he tried to break free. With a grunt of effort, he managed to shrug them off, the fire in his eyes undiminished. He advanced on his father again, who was now slumped against the bar, blood trickling from his nose and mouth.

Minho leaned in close, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper that sent chills down your spine. "You may own this club," he hissed, each word dripping with venom, "but I own her." His arm shot out, finger pointing directly at you. Your brows furrowed in confusion, the words not quite registering in your shock-addled mind. "Own me?" The question tumbled from your lips, barely audible over the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Before you could fully grasp the implications of Minho's declaration, his hand was on your arm again. His grip was firm, bordering on painful as he began to drag you away from the scene as his father barked out orders to the body guards. Minho didn’t seem to care about the possible consequences of his actions towards his father. All he had on his mind was you.

You stumbled, struggling to keep up with his long strides as he pulled you down the dark hallway towards a secluded room. The last thing you saw before being yanked around a corner was Minho's father, hunched over and spitting globules of blood onto the polished floor, the red stark against the gleaming surface. The image burned into your retinas as Minho pulled you deeper into the bowels of the club, leaving behind a wake of violence and unanswered questions.

Minho swung open the door pulling you inside with such force you stumbled and fell hard onto the plush carpet in the room. “What the fuck! You can’t just drag me around! I’m not your rag doll!” You yelled as you got back on your feet. Minho stalked towards you his eyes furious, it made you a bit nervous but you still stood your ground with him.

"You're mine," Minho breathed out, his voice a low, possessive growl that sent shivers down your spine. His strong hands gripped your arms, pulling you flush against his body. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, his scent a heady mixture of expensive cologne and something uniquely Minho. You could feel the hard planes of his chest pressed against you, his heart hammering in sync with yours.

For a moment, you felt yourself melting into his embrace, your body betraying your mind's protests. But you steeled yourself, pushing against his chest with all your might. "I am not yours!" you spat, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and desire. "Let go of me!" Your hands splayed across his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt tensing at your touch.

Minho's grip remained firm but not painful, his eyes darkening with a primal hunger that both terrified and excited you. He leaned in closer, his warm breath fanning across your skin as his lips grazed your jaw. "No one gets to touch you but me," he murmured, his words vibrating against your skin. "You're my dancer." His tongue darted out, tracing a hot, wet path along your jawline, eliciting an involuntary shiver from you.

You slowly turned your head, your angry eyes meeting his heated stare. The intensity in his gaze was almost palpable, a swirling vortex of desire, possessiveness, and something darker that you couldn't quite name. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw your own conflicted emotions reflected in his eyes.

Without warning, Minho's lips crashed onto yours, the kiss hard and demanding. It was as if he was trying to devour you whole, his passion all-consuming. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting, exploring, claiming. One of his hands tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as he angled your head to deepen the kiss further.

His other hand roamed your body with a possessive urgency, fingers digging into your flesh as they traced the curves of your waist, hips, and thighs. Each touch left a trail of fire in its wake, your skin tingling with an electric current of desire. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, swallowed by Minho's hungry mouth.

The intensity of his passion overwhelmed you, your anger melting away like snow in the summer sun. In its place, a burning desire took root, spreading through your body like wildfire. Your hands, which had been pushing him away just moments ago, now clutched desperately at his suit jacket, pulling him impossibly closer.

You found yourself responding with equal fervor, your tongue dancing with his in a passionate tango. Your fingers, trembling with anticipation, fumbled with the buttons of his jacket, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin beneath. As each button came undone, you could feel the hard planes of his chest, the rapid rise and fall of his breathing matching your own frantic pace. The heat between you was palpable, the air thick with the heady scent of desire and the intoxicating musk of his cologne.

Your bodies pressed closer, every inch of you yearning for contact. The soft fabric of your dress did little to mask the heat radiating from your skin, and you could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against your thigh. A low moan escaped your lips, swallowed by his hungry mouth as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring every crevice as if mapping out uncharted territory.

It was as if all the tension that had been building over countless nights of furtive glances and suppressed longing had finally reached its breaking point. The dam of restraint had burst, unleashing a torrent of raw, unbridled passion. You were both drowning in the flood of need that threatened to consume you entirely, and neither of you wanted to come up for air.

Minho's lips left yours, leaving you gasping for breath. But he didn't relent in his assault on your senses. His mouth trailed a blazing path along your jaw, each kiss igniting sparks of pleasure that coursed through your body. When he reached the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazed the skin, eliciting a shudder that ran from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

His lips continued their journey down the column of your neck, alternating between soft, teasing kisses and more insistent nips that were sure to leave marks. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin as he murmured, his voice husky with desire, "I've wanted this for so long. You have no idea how much I've craved you." His words sent a shiver down your spine, the raw honesty in his voice making your heart race even faster. "Every night, watching you dance, imagining my hands on your body ... it's been torture."

Your head fell back, exposing the delicate column of your neck as you gasped, "Minho... I... we shouldn't..." The words came out breathy and uncertain, your voice quivering with a mix of desire and hesitation. But even as you spoke, your body betrayed your true feelings. Your back arched involuntarily, pressing your chest firmly against his, your skin tingling with every point of contact. Your fingers, which had been pushing against his chest moments ago, now curled into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as if he were your lifeline.

Minho's eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours. His lips curled into a predatory smile as he growled, "I do what I want, and I want you." The low timbre of his voice sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire deep within your core. With a swift, fluid motion, he pressed forward, guiding you backward until your back hit the wall with a soft thud. The cool surface against your heated skin made you gasp, the contrast of temperatures heightening every sensation.

Minho's hands moved with a fervent urgency, his fingers finding the delicate straps of your sheer black thong. With a swift tug, he tore away the flimsy material, as well as your matching lacy bralette, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze. The cool air of the room caressed your newly bared skin, causing goosebumps to rise across your flesh. Your nipples hardened instantly, partly from the chill and partly from the intensity of Minho's stare.

Your body responded to his touch as if it had a will of its own. A rush of heat flooded your core, your arousal evident in the way your thighs trembled and your breath came in short, ragged gasps. You could feel the wetness gathering between your legs, your body preparing itself for what was to come.

With deliberate slowness, Minho stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours as he shed his jacket. The expensive fabric fell to the floor with a soft rustle. His tie followed suit, his fingers working deftly at the knot before letting it slip from around his neck. Your eyes roamed hungrily over his sculpted form, drinking in the sight of him. The crisp white shirt clung to his broad shoulders and toned chest, hinting at the muscular physique beneath.

He returned to you with an intensity that made your knees weak. His hands explored every inch of your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. His touch was both gentle and possessive, each caress a claim of ownership. His fingers trailed up your sides, ghosting over the curve of your breasts before sliding around to your back. You shivered as he traced the line of your spine, his touch feather-light yet electrifying.

Minho's hands finally came to rest on your ass, cupping the firm flesh with a grip that was just shy of painful. He pulled you flush against him, letting you feel the hard evidence of his desire pressing against your stomach. A low moan escaped your lips at the contact, your body instinctively grinding against him, seeking more friction.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with want. His hands continued their exploration, mapping out every curve and valley of your body as if committing it to memory. His fingers traced the delicate line of your collarbone, then slowly trailed down to the swell of your breasts, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The calloused pads of his fingertips circled your areolas teasingly, making you arch into his touch, desperate for more.

Minho's plump lips found your hardened nipples, his hot breath ghosting over the sensitive peaks before he took one into his mouth. The sudden warmth and wetness made you gasp, your body jerking with pleasure. He sucked hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the bud, then soothed it with gentle laps. Your fingers tangled in his thick hair, gripping tightly as waves of pleasure washed over you. The slight pain from your tugging seemed to spur him on, his ministrations becoming more fervent.

"Minho..." you moaned softly, his name passing over your lips like a prayer as he worshipped your body. He hummed in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to your core. His free hand kneaded your other breast, thumb and forefinger rolling and pinching the neglected nipple in time with the movements of his mouth.

His tongue swirled around one sensitive peak, then the other, alternating between them with a rhythm that had you writhing beneath him. The occasional graze of his teeth sent jolts of electricity through your body, each sensation more intense than the last. Your back arched, pressing your chest further into his eager mouth, silently begging for more. Minho's hands roamed your sides, his touch both gentle and possessive. His fingers danced along your ribs, then gripped your hips firmly, pulling you closer. Every caress ignited sparks of desire, your skin hypersensitive to his every touch. The heat between you built steadily, a smoldering fire threatening to consume you both.

As he continued his ministrations, you felt your legs weaken, your body trembling with an overwhelming need. Minho sensed your unsteadiness, his strong arms wrapping around you, supporting your weight as he continued to lavish attention on your breasts. The heat between you intensified, the air thick with passion and unspoken desires. Your skin tingled everywhere his hands touched, each caress sending sparks of electricity through your body.

Your fingers, shaking with anticipation, began to unbutton his shirt. Slowly, you revealed the smooth, taut skin beneath, your fingertips tracing the contours of his well-defined muscles. You could feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath your palm, matching the frantic rhythm of your own. Just as your hands slid beneath his shirt, exploring further, he suddenly pulled away. "Don't," he commanded, his voice husky and strained with barely contained desire. Before you could protest, he gripped both of your wrists firmly, pulling you down onto the floor with a swift, controlled movement. Minho loomed over you, his body a cage of heat and muscle, as he pinned your hands above your head with one of his own.

"Let me touch you," you nearly begged, your voice a breathy whisper. Your eyes pleaded with him, filled with a desperate hunger that mirrored his own. Minho's gaze raked over your exposed form, drinking in every curve and dip of your body. His tongue darted out, slowly wetting his lips in a gesture that was both predatory and sensual. His eyes, usually so guarded, now burned with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. There was no mistaking the raw desire etched across his features, his usual composure cracking under the weight of his want.

"Keep your hands here," he growled, his voice low and commanding, sending shivers down your spine. "Or I'm punishing you." The threat in his words was clear, but instead of fear, it sent a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins. Your body tensed in anticipation, wondering what kind of 'punishment' Minho had in mind, and finding yourself eager to find out. In your mind this was a game and you were very eager to play.

You nodded eagerly, your body trembling with anticipation. Minho's free hand began a torturously slow journey down your body, his touch so light it was almost imperceptible, yet it left a trail of fire in its wake. His fingertips ghosted over the swell of your breast, causing your nipples to harden even more, painfully so. He traced the curve with agonizing slowness, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched every minute reaction on your face.

His hand continued its descent, following the dip of your waist and the flare of your hip. Each caress was deliberate, as if he were committing every inch of your skin to memory. When he reached your thigh, his touch became firmer, his large hand spanning the width of your leg as he slowly pushed it aside, exposing you further to his hungry gaze.

You couldn't help but squirm beneath him, your hips lifting of their own accord, silently begging for more. Minho's eyes, dark with desire, locked onto yours. A smirk played at the corners of his lips, a mix of amusement and satisfaction at your obvious need. "Patience," he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

His fingers danced along your inner thigh, tracing intricate patterns on the sensitive skin. With each pass, he inched closer to your core, but never quite reaching where you needed him most. The anticipation was maddening, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"So responsive," he purred, his eyes gleaming with approval as he watched your body react to his every touch. Finally, mercifully, his fingers brushed against your core. The contact, though light, sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. You gasped loudly, your back arching off the floor, pressing yourself more firmly against his hand.

Minho's touch was expert, alternating between feather-light caresses and firm strokes. He explored your folds with deliberate slowness, spreading your wetness and teasing your entrance. When his thumb finally found your sensitive bundle of nerves, you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips. He circled it slowly, building your pleasure with each precise movement, watching intently as you writhed beneath him.

As he continued his ministrations, you fought against the overwhelming urge to reach for him, to touch him in return. Your hands clenched into tight fists above your head, knuckles turning white with the effort to keep them in place. Every muscle in your body trembled, torn between obedience and desire. Minho noticed your struggle, his smirk widening into a predatory grin that sent shivers down your spine.

"Good girl," he purred, his voice low and husky. The praise washed over you like warm honey, intensifying the heat pooling in your core. Rewarding your obedience, he increased the pressure of his touch, his skilled fingers moving with deliberate precision. Your moans filled the room, growing louder and more desperate as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. Each stroke of his fingers brought you to new heights of pleasure, your body arching off the floor, seeking more contact.

The air grew thick with the scent of arousal, punctuated by the wet sounds of his fingers pushing in and out of you at an increasing pace. Minho's mouth found your nipples again, his tongue swirling around the hardened buds before trailing a path of open-mouthed kisses across your flushed skin. The contrast between the coolness of his breath and the heat of his mouth sent jolts of electricity through your body.

"Oh my god!" You cried out, your voice breaking as Minho's other hand began to rub soft, tantalizing circles over your swollen clit. The dual stimulation was almost too much to bear, pleasure building to an almost painful intensity. Your thighs began to tremble uncontrollably, toes curling as you teetered on the brink of ecstasy.

"That's right... I am your God," he mumbled against your skin, his hot breath fanning over the wetness there, sending shivers cascading down your spine. Your body trembled uncontrollably, every nerve ending alight with desire. The need to touch him, to feel more than just his fingers deep inside you, became overwhelming.

Unable to resist any longer, you gave in to temptation. Your hands moved of their own accord, sliding beneath the hem of his shirt. At first, you felt smooth, warm skin, taut with muscle. But as your fingers explored further, they encountered raised lines - scars, you realized with a jolt of surprise. Before you could investigate further, Minho's hand shot out, snatching your wrists and pressing them firmly back above your head.

"You don't know how to listen," he growled against your lips, his voice a mixture of frustration and barely contained lust. His free hand pressed hard against your clit, making you gasp, as his fingers slid back inside you with renewed vigor. He fingered you with a roughness that teetered on the brink between pleasure and pain, each thrust of his digits sending shockwaves through your body.

Your response was instantaneous and intense. Your thighs began to shake uncontrollably, your back arching off the floor as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Minho's name fell from your lips in a desperate cry, muffled by his mouth as he captured yours in a searing kiss. You could feel your orgasm building rapidly, an unstoppable force threatening to consume you entirely.

"Fuck!" The expletive tore from your throat as you struggled against his iron grip, your body writhing beneath him. The pressure continued to build, pushing you closer and closer to that blissful edge. Just as you felt yourself about to tumble over, right on the precipice of sweet release, everything stopped. Minho's fingers were suddenly gone, his hands and body no longer touching you. The abrupt loss of contact left you gasping, your body aching and trembling with unfulfilled need.

You whimpered at the sudden loss of contact, your body aching for release. Minho stood over you, his eyes dark with a coldness you hadn’t seen before. "I told you what would happen if you disobeyed," he said, his voice low and husky. You huffed out in frustration, instantly getting up, your legs shaky as you stepped closer to him. You slapped him hard a cross the face, not being able to hold back your anger. “You bastered your voice dripping with venom. Minho's eyes flashed dangerously, a mix of anger and desire swirling in their depths. In one swift motion, he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head against the wall. "You're playing a dangerous game, little one," he growled, his lips mere inches from yours.

Minho's lips hungrily pressed into yours, his passion undeniable. At first, you tried to resist, your anger still simmering beneath the surface. But soon, your body betrayed you, responding as it always did to his touch. You melted into him, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. Your tongue tangled with his in a fierce dance, the taste of him intoxicating.

The kiss stole your breath, leaving you gasping when he finally pulled back. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours. "Don't forget," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, "you're mine and you only dance for me." The possessiveness in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through your veins.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something wilder, more primal. His hands gripped your waist tightly, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks. The gentle lover you had come to know was gone, replaced by this demanding, domineering man who both thrilled and terrified you.

Suddenly, Minho stepped back, breaking all contact. The loss of his warmth left you feeling cold and bereft. You watched, confused, as he picked up his jacket and tossed it to you. "I'll send a car to take you home," he said, his voice now devoid of emotion.

Your confusion turned to disbelief as you saw him reach into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed a stack of bills onto the nearby couch. The implication of the gesture hit you like a physical blow, leaving you reeling. “From now on you’ll come dance at my house.” Minhos words came out harsh and final. He wasn’t giving a choice in this and that pissed you off.

Without another word or even a backward glance, Minho strode out of the room. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the sudden silence, leaving you alone with a whirlwind of emotions. Confusion swirled in your mind, battling with the hurt that threatened to overwhelm you. But above all, a white-hot anger began to bubble up inside you. How dare he treat you like this? The bills on the couch seemed to mock you, reducing what you thought was a passionate encounter to nothing more than a cold, financial transaction.

You stood there, clutching his jacket, your body still tingling from his touch, but your mind reeling from his abrupt departure. The contrast between the intensity of your shared moment and the callousness of his exit left you feeling used and discarded. As the initial shock began to wear off, your anger solidified into a hard, burning core in your chest. You were determined that this wouldn't be the end. Minho would have to answer for his actions, one way or another.

On the other side of the door, Minho maintained his cold, impassive mask as he navigated through the bustling corridors. His footsteps echoed softly against the polished floors, carrying him past curious glances and hushed whispers. The main room, now teeming with patrons, seemed to part before him, his commanding presence demanding respect even in silence.

As he stepped out into the cool night air, the neon lights of the club's exterior cast an eerie glow on his features, accentuating the sharp angles of his face. He moved with purposeful strides towards his sleek black car, each step measured and controlled. To any onlooker, he appeared the epitome of composure and authority.

It was only when the car door clicked shut behind him, sealing him in the cocoon of privacy, that Minho allowed his carefully constructed facade to crumble. His shoulders sagged, the tension in his jaw released, and a deep, shuddering breath escaped his lips. In the silence of his car, away from prying eyes, the weight of his actions settled heavily upon him. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as a storm of emotions - regret, anger, desire - battled within him.

He was losing his grip, his carefully constructed walls crumbling under the weight of unfamiliar emotions. This woman had awakened something in him, a vulnerability he had never experienced before. Your touch, your scent, the way you looked at him - it all threatened to unravel the control he had maintained for so long. Minho found himself caught between desire and fear, longing to let you in while simultaneously wanting to push you away. The intensity of his feelings both thrilled and terrified him, leaving him off-balance and unsure for the first time in years. He realized, with a mixture of awe and dread, that you had the power to either heal or destroy him completely.

Taglist:

@hyunjinhoexxx @ihrtlino @vixensss @doohnut @kpflyn @rylea08 @sheerfreesia007 @tsunderelino @rockstarkkami @moonchild9350 @myflowercloud @143hyunes @luvyblossom @thisaintredwine @jisuperboard @velvetmoonlight @skzfelixlove @athforskz @cashtonsbetch @babigriin @seunmong-in @cookiesandcreammy @bangchans-angel @iovecb97 @juskz @fawnpeaks @chuuyaobsessed @tirena1 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @simpforleeknaur @mihoonz @redlightsrachaaa @minniesverse @everythingboutkpop @yaorzu-blog @catlove83

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freshbakedbreadstick · 15 hours ago

Text

The Physicalities of Grief - Season 2 Arcane Viktor x F!Reader

Season 2 Arcane Viktor x F!Reader

Summary (SPOILERS): It's hard to grieve someone when their not really gone.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. HEAVY SPOILERS OF SEASON 2 ACT 1 OF ARCANE!! BE WARNED! Reader is described as having a vagina and uses she/her pronouns. Reader’s backstory is kept vague but is mentioned to be from Zaun (the Undercity), worked with Jayce and Viktor, and was childhood friends with Viktor. Mentions of masturbation, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, heavy grief, angst (not a breadstick fanfic if there isn’t angst), bad coping with grief and emotions, grief horniness LMAO, spoilers, brief fear that someone broke into your place, slightly improper use of his powers (not really use tho more like hinting at it), brief mention of vomiting but not in detail (!!), this is basically shameless PWLP (porn with little plot) that i'm using to cope ok?

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Unfortunately i am using Arcane Season 2 as a form of escapism bc i am not ok (context , i live in the US and i am a woman of color , , , , enough said ) anyways i am a Viktor stan and i love him SO SO SO much anyways AS PROMISE HERE IT IS ! LMAO i can't wait for act 2 to come out ! ! ! ! ENJOY ! (awhhh doesnt he look so normal in season 1 ?)

It feels like all you have ever known was this feeling.

This feeling of… swelling and crashing waves of anger and sadness. Of overwhelming crying screams, of bubbling tears that blind you, of aching emptiness that makes your joints feel sore and body retch after every meal.

Mel had to remind you that you were grieving, but you could see the way Jayce looked at her, shaking his head softly when she spoke.

“He isn’t dead,” he would whisper once Mel would leave, but you could only weakly utter “Then why does it feel like he is?”

He never knew what to say to that, just stepping back, face falling.

It was ridiculous at this point, the way he looked at you with… almost pity. You were sick of it. Everytime he came to you, updating you on the latest findings while you laid in bed, pathetically. Feeling like a waste as he went from spending hours in the lab, working beside his friend’s body encased in who knows what, to desperately fighting you to get you to eat something, anything.

You felt like a burden, like a waste of a mind and body that was once so ambitious and passionate, moving around the lab to help with whatever you could get your hands on.

“I’m useless,” you would whisper to yourself in the cover of dark, chest empty and eyes red and dry.

But his words… his words hurt the most.

“Please eat something, anything!” He cried, trying to ever so gently pin your arms down as he lifted a small cup of soup to your face.

“No Jayce, no! Stop it!” You cried, barely able to flail against him.

“I need you to eat something, please! You can't keep going on like this!” His voice cracked.

You pushed his hands away, successfully hitting the cup and making it clatter and crash to the floor.

Both of you flinched, pausing mid movement to hear the sound of the porcelain shattering into millions of pieces.

Stillness for a few seconds. Peace from him for a few seconds.

Until his voice brought you back.

“...Viktor would've wanted you to eat… to keep going…”

It made your eyes burn, chest tightening, throat closing. It made your heart race, limbs suddenly energized for the first time in days, feeling ready to run marathons.

Did Viktor feel this way the first time he touched the hexcore?

You shoved him away with surprising strength, making Jayce yell and fall to the ground, his arm moving up to shield himself.

Leaping from bed, you yanked the sheets around yourself, heavy and dark fabric covering the weakness of your flesh from sight.

“You have no idea what he would've wanted!” Your throat burned as you screamed, lips twisted into a sneer as you glared at him on the floor.

He couldn't even bear to look at you. Coward.

Paled hands moved to claw at your bedside table, yanking the drawers open. You yanked things out, throwing them to find it. Where is it?

Where is it? Where is it? Where is it?

Then you felt it. Soft beneath your fingertips, the embroidered ‘V' he asked you to add onto it scratching your skin ever so slightly. It made you pause, mind rushing and mouth rushing even faster.

“Better yet, you knew what he wanted and still went against him!” Your voice quivered as you yelled at Jayce.

Jayce gasped softly, head jerking back.

“W-what friend you are,” You stuttered, tears rushing back into your eyes and making your voice sound watery. You felt stupid.

Jayce’s breath hitched, his mouth opened to respond but you were too quick. You grasped the red fabric into your hands and rushed off, snatching your shoes on before you ran out the door with a choked sob, Jayce yelling out your name as you did so.

Your body ached as you ran, running into corners and slamming into walls you didn’t sense as you rounded hallways. Your body feverish, only shivered when you stepped out into the chill of the quiet darkness of the supposed city of progress.

Your lungs ached as you ran, panting and gasping between cries. You ran and ran, stumbling and nearly collapsing as you made your descent.

Down, down, down… to the city you knew too well.

Back home.

You tucked the blanket closer as you rounded corners with ease, effortless as you hopped over piles of trash and twisted into darkened alleys, avoiding the sounds of twisted laughs and growls.

You nearly ran into the door of your little old home, scratching at your neck to yank the necklace into the light of the partially broken street lamps. A trembling hand shoved the key into the lock, tugging yourself to press your cheek against the cold door with a hiss.

It was hard to tell what you were doing in the darkness of the studio, staggering as you closed the door and moved around, getting bruises as you ran into old furniture and beat up tables. You cried out, howling in pain as you made your way toward your bed, hidden in the back of the room.

One hand reached out, feeling the end of the furniture with heavy pants, eyes wide and barely able to make it out. But it was there, sturdy and reliable, the scent of comfort, of home, reaching your nose as you collapsed onto it, bursting out in wails.

The bed creaked as your body shook, the utter power of your lament echoing in the darkness of the room, red fabric clutched to your chest.

You could smell him, smell the mixture of coffee, toast, and the unmistakable scent of the lab.

You cried louder, rattling the windows with each sound as you held the fabric he used to tie his tie, nose buried into it. But it did nothing to muffle you, nothing to withhold the sounds of your cries.

It felt like days passed before you passed out, falling unconscious without a second thought.

But when you finally woke, it was dark again.

Body aching, you sat up in with a heaved breath, wincing at the pain that echoed throughout your being. It was hardly bearable, making you sigh as you realized that you finally did it, you pushed yourself too much and rendered yourself alone, sleeping the day away.

You felt like a ghost skirting around your home, blanket clutched around your form and hand clutching the red fabric to your chest with paled knuckles. Feet made soft sounds as you stomped, using all your strength to collapse onto the sink, holding onto the ledge as you stretched, one hand opening the tap and lips greedily sucking in the water that came down.

You knew that you would probably regret this later, Zaun’s tap water was not meant to be drunk without extra precautions made to ensure it was clean. Afterall, this wasn’t Piltover, where you could drink fresh water from the tap without worry.

You remembered the way your mother would have to boil it over the fire as a child, wincing as you drank the warm water after running circles around your childhood best friend, who would laugh and watch with a sad glint in his eyes as you did so. All you wanted was fresh, cold water after sweating, throat scratchy and knees scraped with a wonder only a child could possess.

It made you want to cry again, as your familiar scratchy throat was soothed by the cool water, if only temporarily.

Your hand barely had the strength to push the faucet shut, slipping onto your knees soon after.

The fabric pressed against your nose, darkening under the tears that slipped and hit it on its way down your cheeks. Burnt toast… coffee… metal. Burnt toast, coffee, metal. Burnt toast, coffee, metal, Jayce. Burnt toast, coffee, metal, Jayce, you.

You crawled back into bed, grunting and groaning as your limbs screamed, desperate for you to stop and give up. ‘Forget it, you're alone now’ they said, desperate for a break.

“Just… let me get to the bed… please,” you heard your gravely voice whisper out, begging yourself.

“...I’ll quit once I get to bed… please…”

‘Fine,’ you told yourself.

Crumpled there on the sheets, you encased yourself with the blanket like a body laid to rest among the flowers, eyes closed and breathing getting slower. You could hear chatter from just beyond the walls, the sound of people chattering before rushing off, the occasional argument either followed by commotion or silence. It soothed you like a lullaby, as it soothed all children of the undercity.

But as a fight breaks out nearby, harsh voices echoing the sounds of punches, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried desperately to think of something else.

Like the day he convinced you to go with him to Piltover.

“Come with me,” he whispered, hand extended out to you, amber eyes glinting with hope for what this opportunity would bring.

“Oh Viktor,” you whispered aloud, voice breaking just like in the memory.

“Please,” he said, brows creasing.

“But will I fit in? Will they accept me?” you murmured, holding your own hand, looking between his hand to his eyes.

“They accept me,” he breathed.

“That’s because you are a scientist.”

He scoffed, “Do not reduce yourself to utility, regardless of where you come from, you deserve to live amongst them.”

“But they will stare at me like… like I'm trash.”

“Nothing we aren’t used to already… besides… I need you there.”

Your breath hitched.

“You do?” you whispered to yourself, hand clutched to the fabric rising to press it against your nose again.

Eyelids softened as you thought of the way he smiled, chuckling softly at your bewildered face, smooth voice like melody that made goosebumps spread across your skin as he said, “Of course I need you…”

You didn’t even realize your free hand had inched its way down your torso until your fingertips hit the waistband of your bottoms, making you freeze up, eyes snapping open to stare into the inky darkness.

You panted, chest rising and falling.

“No…” you whispered, “N-no, no I… I can't.”

“Of course you can,” his voice echoed in your brain, smooth as a ray of sunlight, “Whatever it is you're worried about, I'll help you.”

Finally, your hand fell into his. He pulled you close, so close, that his eyes flickering onto yours felt like it had replaced the sun and the moon, “Come with me.”

Trembling, your hand pushed under the waistband and under your undergarments, fingers tracing over your mound before dipping down to the unabashed wetness of your core.

You gasped, chest tightening.

“No,” you whispered into the fabric.

Burnt toast, coffee, metal.

Your fingers glided down, hips rising and legs spreading, skin so so hot under your touch. With a smooth swipe, the wetness gathered itself on your fingertip, moving to ever so gently press against your throbbing clit.

It made you whine, voice muffled by the fabric held tight against your hand.

“No please…” you whispered once more, your resolve slipping as you thought of those amber eyes and how they glistened when he spoke about his work.

“C-can’t…” you just couldn’t bear it.

This was your childhood friend you were imagining, your friend who cared so deeply about you that he was willing to take you with him when he got a new opportunity in Piltover. Your friend who sacrificed his health for the sake of finding new tech to help people like you, who weren’t given a fair chance in the undercity. Your friend whose gaze would transfix on you as he explained what he was doing, voice tinged with an eagerness that made him whine when he thought your mind was straying from his words.

“Darling, are you listening to me?” he would say as you played with some geared models he set out for you to see.

“Yes Viktor, I swear!”

He would always chuckle and nod, either continuing to explain or instead staying silent, moving to stand behind you.

Your knees and mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut.

Burnt toast, coffee, metal.

Heavy pants filled the silence of the room.

You could almost feel the way his hand would slide over yours as you played with the model, long nimble fingers gliding over your skin.

You would gasp, hand stilling until he began to move it, guiding it with his own.“Here, let me show you… This is how you use it,” he would murmur, warm breath hitting your skin. It was so hard to suppress the shiver he gave you, no longer able to focus on the way he would turn the model the other way, guiding your fingers to press against a gear, turning it in a slow circle to get it working.

Your breathing hitched, hand moving in the way he showed you how.

His hand would speed up, moving away to let you try it. The gears then began to move on their own, prompting you to move your own hand away, watching the model with an excited smile.

The swelling pleasure in your belly grew, making the smooth movements of your hand become erratic, unable to keep a steady pace.

“V-Viktor,” you breathed, hips bucking into the air.

You could imagine it, the way he spoke so smoothly to you, an air of calm to it as if he was speaking to a frightened animal, “Yes, my darling?”

“L-like this?” you croaked, fingers dipping to press against your sopping hole, feeling it drool onto your fingers.

“Yes, exactly like that… you're doing so good…”

Your breaths grew more and more ragged, shivering as you chased your climax. It was so close, making your head fall back onto the sheets, fabric clutched to your nose, using it to run it up and down your body.

Burnt toast, coffee, metal.

“S-so… close…” you whispered.

Then you heard it.

A whisper.

You stilled, eyes snapping open and wide in terror.

You didn’t breathe, you didn’t move.

‘Go to her’, it whispered once more, a feminine voice you couldn’t make out, too low for you to distinguish.

But you could hear staggered steps, moving.

You knew you were hidden from view, allowing you an advantage, but this person was moving toward you, slowly but steadily.

You were frozen in place.

Did they come to rob you? Had you even locked your front door when you came in?

But you had no time to think, you were sitting here unarmed and vulnerable.

Gathering yourself, you sat up in bed, careful to avoid making noise as you peaked above the furniture that hid you, seeing a cloaked figure moving in the dark. You saw nothing, just them staggering. They didn’t seem to be here to steal, brushing past your things without a second glance.

You prayed to anyone who could hear you that it was just some weary soul needing to rest.

But right before you looked away, you saw it.

You saw the glow.

A faint blue-purple glow of footsteps that led toward you.

You swallowed, curling back and into yourself as your eyes trailed the faint humming glow of these footsteps, the way they led right to the foot of your bed.

The cloaked and hooded figure approached, moving around what hid you to stand at the edge of your bed, looking right at you.

Then you smelled it.

Burnt toast, coffee, metal, and… something… more.

Your breath hitched as a bony hand reached up and out, moving toward your face.

You flinched, squeezing your eyes shut as it moved. You didn't see the way it hesitated, pausing right before the warmth of your cheek.

“My darling…” They whispered, voice rumbling in a way that made your eyes snap open and body instantly and unconsciously sag, “Am i that scary?”

You gasped, shaking as you made out the iridescent eyes that traced over your sunken cheeks and eyes with dark bags underneath.

“Oh my darling…” he murmured, fingertips finally pressing against your cheeks.

He was cold, but somehow warmth thrummed through him like… machinery.

His thumb traced underneath your eye, gently, “Have you been suffering because… of me?”

You said nothing, pinned to the spot underneath his gaze.

You tried to say something, but nothing came out. Your mouth only opened and closed, silence emitting from it instead.

His gaze swept over you, making a shiver go down your spine as you sat there. His gaze stilled, eyes widening ever so slightly as he followed your hands. He paused and, after a beat of silence, he spoke up.

“Here… let me show you.”

Burnt toast, coffee, metal, and something indescribable.

The hand cupping your cheeks trailed down to your jaw, tilting it upward to look at him as he shifted to sit in front of you, the overwhelming scent of Him invading your senses.

His other hand moved, gently wrapping itself around your wrist, feeling the warmth of your skin underneath his own. He then slid in, over and down underneath the waistband of your clothes and to your soaked fingers.

You could only stare into the pools of opal that peered into your soul.

A gasp wormed its way out of your mouth as his fingers pressed against you, index tracing around your throbbing clit to your clenching hole. He moved in circles, teasing you by pressing his longest finger just against your entrance before pulling back, moving to press a tiny bit deeper with every movement.

You felt yourself instantly relax, unable to help yourself as the familiar face of Viktor stared at you, eyes softening as he saw the panic melt away.

“V-Viktor i…” you breathed, “You… d-”

“I'm supposed to be dead… I know…” he whispered.

His finger pressed in, making you groan softly as it moved against your warm walls, carefully pressing to find that spongy bit inside of you. He was always so calculated, even now as his gaze focused on your face, tracking every miniscule movement like the way your pupils dilated when you saw him, the way your breathing picked up when his thumb brushed against your clit, and the way your lips parted when his fingers curled.

“But I'm here now, my darling… you don't have to worry anymore… I just want you to come back with me.”

His voice made your eyes struggle to keep open, soft moans filling the once empty room. You were drunk off him, drunk off the way his fingers moved so deliciously deliberate, stimulating you in multiple ways and making you melt.

“Viktor…?” you sighed, barely registering what he said.

“Yes?” Viktor whispered, leaning to press his forehead against your own.

It sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body, tingling with a purple glow over your skin.

“I…” gasping for air was all you could do, the overwhelming sensation flowing through your veins as his thumb pressed against your clit, fingers curling in and out of you. You were so close again.

“More?” He murmured, voice soft.

Your eyes could barely hold his gaze, “N-need you…”

“Like I always needed you?”

You moaned out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you shook, the pleasure reaching its peak.

“Cum for me… come with me.” he murmured, lips brushing against your own.

He swallowed your moans as you cried out his name, body shaking. His hand on your jaw held you in place, continuing to move his fingers in you and on your clit, your hand wrapped around his wrist as he did so, the other still clutched onto his red tie.

Pure, white, hot, pleasure stole your vision and voice, making you see visions of a future where you and your people would never have to suffer anymore, not with someone like Viktor to lead them.

As you came down, body heaving and shaking, he carefully moved his hand off your core before wrapping your weak body with his lapis blue cloak, pressing you against him. Your head lolled, slotting against his neck, smelling the scent of burnt toast, coffee, metal, and something… something otherworldly.

“Come with me.” He whispered, “I need you.”

“I will.” You whispered, this time not hesitating.

#arcane #viktor x reader arcane #viktor x reader #arcane season 2 #arcane league of legends #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #arcane viktor #arcane s2 #arcane season two

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thebibliophilevigilante · 15 hours ago

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A sigh of relief caused Jason’s chest to heave as his arms tightened around Madison. It was short-lived, however. Her hand had found its way onto his thigh, causing his breath to hitch. When she started rubbing it, he had to look anywhere but her, trying to keep her soothed while remaining relaxed himself. He didn’t want to have an…unfortunate situation arise.

The cab of the ferris wheel rocked, and her hand squeezed tighter. Though her moans were in distress, it still shot fire through his veins. Fuck. He had to keep himself distracted or it was about to get really embarrassing really quickly.

“W-We’re talking body counts?” he laughed nervously, fingers moving through her hair quicker out of anxiousness. “We…tried to do normal couple things when we could. Like I said, they had similar jobs to me, so we weren’t always able to find the time. There were just a handful, five, since I can see the wheels in that pretty little head of yours turning.”

He rested his head against hers as he considered the next question. “In the cases with them, perhaps it was a wrong place, wrong time situation, or that I’m just…damaged. Everyone has their pasts, their secrets. Sometimes the baggage is too much to carry or shoulder. They are all great women, but…maybe they’re just better off without me.”

His heart constricted in his chest. Maybe Madison would have been better without him, too.

At her inquiry about his past, he let out a soft chuckle. “Well, they were all badasses, number one. They held their own against the toughest opponents, even regular civilians in Gotham. You know they can be rough around the edges.” He hoped she would take that the way he intended, that she was a badass, just like they were. “They even held their own with me, gave me a run for my money and always kept me guessing, kept me on my toes.”

He smirked mischievously, leaning down to kiss her ear. “That’s why I’m not going to go easy on you when we play, pretty girl. I know you’re going to give it your all, being the badass you are, and I won’t make it easy on you.”

They finally reached the peak, and he leaned his head forward. Her brown eyes were open then, and she was gazing out at where the Gotham skyline met the Atlantic Ocean. The smile on her face was worth it. The kiss to his cheek was a bonus. He squeezed her tightly in pride.

“There you go. That’s my good girl. You made it to the top and you’re overcoming your…aversion. I’m proud of you.”

Lowering his voice, the hand that had been across her midsection came down to rest on her hand covering his thigh. “I’d say…that’s cause for celebration with a sweet treat, don’t you?”

When it comes to getting intel, there are several ways to go about it. One could ask politely, or ask the right questions to eventually draw information from their target. There is intimidation, threatening your target and demanding the information in exchange for remaining unharmed. Then there is incognito surveillance, appearing inconspicuous and melding in with one’s environment just listening and watching.

The current session was the latter.

A raven-haired man with a blanched tuft in his bangs kept his teal eyes trained on the book in his massive, calloused right hand. His left swirled his take-away cup absentmindedly. He was reading words, but they weren’t registering in his brain. His focus was more concentrated on the conversations around him, and what information he could gather before his next patrol.

The first three rules of real estate are location, location, location. Burnley Brewhouse definitely had that, especially for Jason Todd. It was conveniently placed right on the very edge of Burnley, practically at the juncture of where Crime Alley and The Bowery neighborhoods started (which were all Jason’s domain). By day, the neighborhood was full of regular citizens, students and tourists. By night, the whole area was crawling with denizens of the dark wheeling and dealing for their own personal gain and vices while putting others at risk.

Jason brought his cup to his mouth for a sip, his eyes flicking to the counter where two men with heavier builds were waiting for their order. One had a rough 5 o’clock shadow, the other a scraggly, unkempt blond beard, both wearing holy jeans and beat-up leather jackets. He recalled seeing them once during a patrol a couple of weeks prior, skulking around by the Freight Yards. They were definitely up to no good then, and could offer him decent information in the present. The barista handed both of them a take-away cup, and his eyes quickly glanced down to his book again, his peripherals watching as they meandered around to sit at a table caddy-corner from his in the back corner of the shop.

“Terry was telling me about that new candy order he has coming in,” 5 O’Clock muttered lowly to his friend. “Said it should get here overnight, and we can distribute to the stores first thing in the morning.”

Scraggles ran his nails over his beard as he listened. “Loaded with sugar? Y’know these kids can’t get enough of their sugar.”

“He said it was everything needed from the inventory list. He said he has his pal Molly coming in to help with the shipment too.”

There was a small pause before, “How many donuts did he get and where from?”

“11 for the crew. I think he said they’re from Declan’s over on 14th Street.”

Jason had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Those two idiots were blatantly discussing a drug drop in broad daylight just as if they were talking about a regular candy store shipment.

He switched the book to his right hand as he snagged a napkin from the holder and a pen from the table. He scribbled a note to himself, writing the characters’ names from his book, followed by “PG 11, DL 14.” He knew his own shorthand; the character names were to keep up appearances. “PG 11” would remind him the drop was scheduled for 11, and “DL 14” would remind him the ship would be at Dock Bay 14.

His attention went back to his book as he brought the pen to his lips, teeth nibbling on the retractable plunge as he appeared deep in thought. He was about to tune back into 5 O’Clock and Scraggly’s conversation when the cafe’s entry bell rung.

His eyes flitted to the door to assess the entrant, and he froze. A young brunette with piercing dark eyes was glancing around, looking for a place to perch herself no doubt. She was breathtaking, and certainly unlike any other person he had seen come in to Burnley’s. As she turned to the counter, he couldn’t help the large grin that danced over his face. First he got lucky with the tip-off. Would he be lucky enough for that gorgeous girl to sit anywhere within his vicinity?

@rpwiththelilflower

#thebibliophilevigilante #rpwiththelilflower

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nausicaamusiclover20 · 3 days ago

Note

Hello I hope you are having a good day))

Can you do 2010s James in his Mohawk/punk era & younger reader who used to be a pole dancer to make money for college? And she’s shy about it cause she’s afraid he’ll slut shame her? But he accidentally finds out and thinks it’s very hot? And asks her for a private performance? And he just can’t sit still during her dance so it ends up very sexy????

Hello, thanks for asking. I'm good, I hope you're having a good day too. I hope you like this🔥❤

Too hot to handle

I leaned against the doorframe, waiting for my friend to finish her story when I felt his presence behind me before I even saw him. I froze, my friend’s teasing words still hanging in the air.

“So, do you ever miss the old days? I can still picture you on that stage. Can’t believe you pole danced to pay for college. Classic!”

I forced a laugh, glancing over my shoulder, only to lock eyes with James. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching me with a look of both surprise and interest.

His brow lifted. “A pole dancer, huh?”

I swallowed hard, feeling my face heat up. Of all people, James was the last person I wanted to know. Sure, we’d been getting close, but he was… well, James Hetfield. I was sure he’d see my past as shameful, or worse, like I was some kind of… I don’t know, groupie. My mind scrambled for an excuse, something to brush it off, but before I could, he smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"That’s pretty badass,” he said, surprising me. “Never would’ve guessed.” He paused, his gaze turning darker. “Think you could give me a private show?”

I blinked, half-laughing, thinking he was joking, but he just looked at me, his smirk widening. It wasn’t the response I’d expected; I felt my stomach flip, both embarrassed and intrigued.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

My heart pounded as I took in his challenge, his eyes holding mine with a bold confidence that left me breathless. Suddenly, I felt the temptation to show him that side of myself, to let him see me as I used to be. So I nodded, feeling a rush of nerves and excitement.

"Fine," I thought. *If he wants a show, I’ll give him one.

In the dimly lit room, I set up a slow, pulsing song, feeling that familiar rhythm as I closed my eyes. It had been years since I’d done this, but as the music started, I found myself sinking into it, letting the beat guide my movements.

I started slow, hips swaying, fingertips grazing my skin as I moved, my eyes half-closed. When I opened them, I was met with James’s gaze, fierce and unblinking. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, watching me with an intensity that made my pulse skip. Gone was the smirk, replaced by something deeper, darker, and far more intense.

The way he looked at me made me feel powerful, sexy in a way I’d almost forgotten I could be. The more I moved, the bolder I became. I let my body take over, dipping low, sliding my hands down my sides, feeling his gaze heat up with each movement. His breathing grew heavier, and I noticed his jaw tighten, his hands clenching as though he was fighting to keep them still.

I arched my back, slowly rolling my hips and catching a glimpse of him through lowered lashes. His eyes were locked on me, his entire focus on every move I made. He swallowed hard, and I could see his fingers flex against his knees, his knuckles white as he restrained himself. The intensity of his reaction sent a rush through me, a new sense of control I wasn’t used to feeling with him.

As I spun, letting my hair fall over my shoulder, I could almost hear him inhale sharply, his gaze so dark and hungry it sent a shiver down my spine. The tension in the air was electric, and the closer I moved, the more I felt him unravel. He shifted in his seat, his body leaning forward, almost as if he was about to reach out and touch me. But he held himself back, his eyes roaming over me with that same ravenous look that made my cheeks flush.

Finally, I came to a stop just in front of him, the song ending, my breath coming in shallow pants as I held his gaze. For a moment, he just stared at me, his chest rising and falling heavily, his eyes filled with a raw, unfiltered desire. Then, in one quick motion, he reached out, grabbing my waist and pulling me into his lap.

“You’ve been hiding this side of yourself from me,” he murmured, his voice rough as his hands tightened around my waist.

I blushed, suddenly shy, barely able to meet his gaze. “I… didn’t think you’d like it,” I whispered, afraid he might see me differently. “Didn’t want you to think badly of me… or that I was just some…” I trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

His eyes softened for a split second, his hand sliding up to cup my cheek, brushing his thumb along my jaw. “Think badly of you?” He shook his head, his voice low, almost reverent. “I think I might want you even more now. You’re incredible, you know that?”

The sincerity in his voice made my heart skip, and my shyness started to fade as he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “You were up there on that stage, huh? Moving just like that?” His tone was teasing, low and gravelly, but the look in his eyes told me he wasn’t kidding. “Bet you had every guy in that place wrapped around your little finger, didn’t you?”

I shivered, his words sending a rush through me as he traced his fingers slowly up my spine. “You have no idea what it did to me, watching you dance like that. I could barely keep myself in that chair,” he whispered, his lips brushing the skin just below my ear.

His hand slipped down my back, pressing me closer as he angled his head, his voice barely a whisper. “Do you know how much I wanted to just… I wanted to touch you ?” His fingers gripped my waist, dragging me even closer against him as he breathed against my neck. “The way you moved… made it impossible to think straight.”

I felt his hand slide up, threading through my hair as he tilted my face to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark and intense, filled with a need that made me shiver. Slowly, he pulled me down, his lips hovering close to mine as he whispered, “It drove me crazy, watching you. Like you were made for this.” His mouth found mine in a kiss that was searing, raw, leaving no space between us as his hands roamed over my back, tracing every curve.

My heart raced, and his hands traveled lower, fingers tracing the line of my thighs, pulling me impossibly close. He leaned back, his hands finding my hips as he guided me to move, matching the rhythm I’d teased him with just moments before. His eyes never left mine as he murmured, “Think you could keep dancing just for me?” His voice was low, barely a whisper. “I’d give anything to see that again, to keep you like this.”

The feel of him, the raw intensity in his words, left me breathless, wanting more, and as he pulled me tighter into him, his mouth traced down to my collarbone, his whispers sending shivers through my whole body.

I leaned into him,, feeling the heat between us rise with every second. His hands slid down my back, pulling me tighter, until there was no space left between us. I could feel the tension in his body, the way he struggled to hold back.

When we finally broke away, breathless and longing, his forehead rested against mine. “I’ve been wanting this for so long,” he whispered, his voice low, the words sending a shiver down my spine.

“I know,” I whispered back, my lips brushing his. “Me too.”

He smiled, a little teasing but still soft, before pulling back slightly and grinning. “So… when do I get that private show, huh?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You really can’t let that go, can you?”

He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I mean, it was pretty damn impressive. I think I deserve at least an encore.”

I couldn’t help but laugh again, leaning in to kiss him once more. “Maybe after we figure out how to get out of this tangled mess, I’ll consider it.”

And with that, we stayed there, tangled in each other’s arms, laughing softly, knowing that whatever came next would be ours to explore—slowly, deeply, and with all the passion that had been building between us. But first, I had to convince him that there were some things best saved for later… no matter how tempting the encore might be.

#metallica #metallica oneshot #metallica fanfiction #jameshetfield #jameshetfieldxreader #james hetfield one shot #james hetfield imagine #nausicaamusiclover20

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pdriesta · 18 hours ago

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CHAPTER SEVEN

“even when it’s bad, i love you”

pairing — trentxblack!girl

genre — angst, angst and more angst

word count — 7k

summary — y/n and trent's once strong relationship is strained by his growing distance and her unexpected pregnancy. as they clash over their future, y/n faces the painful choice of leaving behind the love and they love they worked so hard creating. will they overcome their struggles and rebuild their love, or will their fractured bond break beyond repair?

an — i hope you are all well! let me know your thoughts and preditctions.

masterlist

as the late morning light filtered through their living room, trent wrapped his arms around y/n as she lay nestled against him, her head resting on his shoulder. he watched her fight to keep her eyes open, her hand absently rubbing her bump as she tried to keep up with the quiet conversation between them. he could see the exhaustion starting to weigh on her, how the pregnancy seemed to tire her out faster with each passing day.

“baby,” he whispered, his voice soft as his fingers brushed her cheek. “how about you sleep with me? just for a bit, before i head out?”

she glanced up, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips, and let out a small sigh of contentment. “only if you’re staying right here,” she murmured, her voice thick with drowsiness.

he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “right here, promise. we’ll take a nap together.”

earlier that morning, he'd watched her moving around the house in baggy sweats and a cropped tank, her bump now round and unmistakable, stretching against the fabric. she’d been organizing, moving things around, too determined to get everything in its place before the babies came. but even with her hair a little messy and her cheeks flushed from effort, she looked so beautiful to him, so strong. still, he couldn’t help noticing how every few steps, she’d pause, hands finding her back, and her shoulders slumping, exhaustion clearly tugging at her.

she’d brushed off his suggestion to rest, insisting she was fine and had things to do, but he knew her well enough to see through it. so now, as she settled in his arms, he gently pulled her onto his chest, letting her fully relax against him.

he could feel her breathing start to slow, her body softening, melting into his warmth. as her fingers traced gentle patterns over his chest, he stroked her back, feeling the curve of her body, the slight weight of her belly pressing against him. it was in moments like this that everything felt real, that the love he had for her seemed too big to contain.

with his hand resting over hers on her bump, he murmured, “you don’t have to do it all, you know. just take it easy… you’re carrying our whole world in there.”

she let out a soft hum of agreement, her eyes closed, but there was a small, content smile on her lips. “i know,” she whispered. “i just want everything to be perfect… for them, for you.”

“it already is,” he said, pressing another gentle kiss to her hair. “just being here with you… it’s all i need.”

her hand tightened slightly over his, and he could feel the rhythm of her breathing settle even more. he let his thumb brush small circles over her knuckles, feeling her pulse beneath his fingertips, as if grounding himself in this moment, in her. he closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink into the warmth of her, the quiet weight of their love, and the peaceful anticipation of everything ahead.

there, wrapped in each other’s arms, they found a pocket of calm amidst the whirlwind of their lives. time seemed to fade away, leaving only the soft rise and fall of their breathing, the gentle weight of her against him, and the quiet joy of what they were building together.

the next day their morning had started in the best way possible, wrapped up in each other in bed, the sun barely peeking through the blinds. trent had been soft and sweet, his hands tracing lazy circles along her back, his lips brushing her shoulder as they whispered sleepy good mornings. they’d stayed close like that for hours, just soaking in each other’s presence. after a breakfast in bed that had ended in laughter and syrup-sticky fingers, y/n had suggested they move to the couch for a movie.

“let’s watch a walk to remember,” she’d said with a soft smile, her eyes bright, pulling him into the living room. trent chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist as they walked.

“this again?” he teased, smirking. “you’ve watched this movie a thousand times, love. you know how it ends.”

she rolled her eyes, nudging him. “i know, but it’s a classic. besides, it’s comforting.”

he gave her a playful side-eye, clearly not convinced, but he didn’t argue. instead, he let her settle against his chest as they nestled into the couch, her head on his shoulder, his arm securely wrapped around her. it felt perfect. cozy. he ran his fingers softly along her arm, pressing gentle kisses to her temple.

but a few minutes into the movie, he noticed her body tense under his arm. the shift was subtle at first, like she was trying to ignore something, but then she shifted again, pulling her shoulder away from his kisses, her body inching just out of his hold.

“hey,” he murmured softly, tilting his head down to look at her. “everything okay?”

she crossed her arms over her chest, visibly frustrated, but not at him exactly. “i just… i don’t know. i don’t want to be touched right now.” her voice was clipped, guarded.

trent blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “oh, okay. but… you wanted to cuddle, right?” he asked gently, the hint of confusion softened by his patience.

she sighed, rolling her eyes as if he should already understand. “that was then, trent. this is now.”

he held back a chuckle, nodding slowly as he scooted away to give her space, though he kept watching her with a gentle curiosity. “right, got it. i’ll just be over here… not touching.” he said with a small, amused smile, hoping a bit of humor might ease whatever tension she was feeling.

y/n just huffed, her arms still folded tightly as she turned her gaze back to the screen. trent sat beside her in comfortable silence, giving her the room she clearly needed. he turned his attention to the movie, chuckling to himself every so often at the cheesy dialogue, sneaking glances at her, trying to gauge if her mood had shifted again.

but then, just as the opening scenes played out—before anything remotely sad had even happened—he heard the softest sniffle beside him. he looked over, and there she was, eyes already glossy with tears, lips quivering slightly as she blinked up at the screen, her chest rising and falling a bit faster.

“baby… it’s barely started,” trent said softly, keeping his voice light and teasing, but filled with genuine concern as he gently reached for her hand.

she let out a shaky breath, wiping a tear from her cheek, clearly frustrated. “i know,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “i don’t even know why i’m crying, trent. i just… i can’t stop. everything feels… all over the place.”

trent’s heart ached a little at her words, the vulnerability in her expression catching him completely. “oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, wrapping his arm around her slowly, letting her decide if she wanted the closeness. she didn’t pull away this time, instead leaning into him, her fingers clutching onto his shirt like she needed something to ground her.

“it’s the hormones, right?” he said softly, brushing a hand through her hair. “nothing wrong with you at all. it’s just… pregnancy stuff.”

she looked up at him, her brows pinched in that way they did when she was trying to hold back. “i feel so… i don’t know, trent. like i’m not myself. like i’m losing it. i wanted you here, then i didn’t, and now… i do.” her words came out broken, her voice barely above a whisper.

trent only held her closer, his hand softly rubbing her back, his patience infinite. “love, it’s okay. really. we can go back and forth all day if you need,” he said with a small, reassuring smile. “doesn’t matter what you’re feeling. whatever you need, i’m here. i’ll keep up.”

she sniffled, her fingers curling tighter in his shirt. “i just don’t know what’s wrong with me… we were fine this morning, weren’t we? i was happy, and now… i feel like i’m breaking down over… this.” she gestured vaguely to the screen, her face softening in a self-conscious way, like she was embarrassed.

trent kissed her temple, his voice warm and low. “i think you’re pretty incredible, actually,” he whispered. “carrying all of this, feeling everything so intensely. and if you need to cry during a movie you’ve seen a thousand times, i’m not going anywhere.”

her lips trembled, a soft smile breaking through her teary expression. “i don’t know what i’d do without you, trent.”

he kissed her again, his hand gently tracing her shoulder as he held her. “well, lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out.”

the day started with excitement. y/n had been practically buzzing since breakfast, and trent couldn’t help but smile at the energy she radiated. they sat together in the kitchen, y/n’s hands wrapped around a mug of tea while trent scrolled through his phone.

“so, guess who’s coming over?” she asked, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with barely contained enthusiasm.

trent looked up from his phone, intrigued. “who?”

“aura!” y/n exclaimed, almost bouncing in her seat. “tyler and his wife are going on an anniversary trip, and we get to watch her for the night!”

trent raised an eyebrow, surprised. “aura? as in… my niece, aura?”

“yes!” she laughed, her excitement only growing. “she’s coming over tonight, and she’ll be sleeping here. i thought it’d be fun for us to take care of her. you know, kind of like a… test run.” she wiggled her eyebrows at him, clearly pleased with herself for coming up with the idea.

trent chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “a test run? for what?”

“parenthood!” y/n said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “i mean, we’re about to have two babies soon, so why not practice with aura? she’s only, what, two and a half? it’ll be good for us to see how we manage with a toddler. besides,” she added with a playful glint in her eyes, “how hard can it be?”

trent smirked, setting his phone down and crossing his arms over his chest. “how hard, indeed. alright, i’m up for the challenge. let’s do it.”

y/n grinned, reaching across the table to give his hand an affectionate squeeze. “we’ve got this. she’s going to love it.”

by 6 p.m., aura was there, tiny pink backpack slung over her shoulder, her big eyes wide with excitement as she waddled into the house, holding tyler’s hand. she looked like a miniature version of her father, her wild curls bouncing as she moved, her small voice chattering non-stop.

“thank you so much for watching her,” tyler said, slightly frazzled but clearly grateful. “she’s got her snacks in her bag, and her bedtime’s at 8 p.m.—well, we try to get her to sleep by then, but good luck with that. oh, and she loves ‘the wheels on the bus.’ just a warning.”

y/n and trent both nodded enthusiastically, waving tyler off with reassuring smiles. aura, meanwhile, was already making herself at home, toddling around the living room as she inspected every corner with curiosity.

“easy peasy,” y/n whispered to trent once tyler had left. she crouched down to aura’s level, her smile wide and warm. “hey, aura! are you ready to have some fun?”

aura looked up at y/n with wide eyes before giggling and running over to the couch, climbing up with surprising agility. “wheels on the bus!” she declared.

trent raised an eyebrow at y/n, who stifled a laugh. “she doesn’t waste time, does she?”

“wheels on the bus, huh?” y/n said, picking up the remote. “alright, aura. we’ll start with a little tv, and then we’ll do some fun activities.”

the next hour passed in a whirlwind of nursery rhymes and toddler chaos. aura, true to her nature, was a bundle of energy—demanding snacks one minute, refusing them the next, asking for different toys, and then promptly getting bored with them. she sang “the wheels on the bus” on repeat, over and over, her tiny voice echoing through the house like a broken record.

trent tried to keep up, offering snacks, building blocks, and even attempting a dance-off at one point to keep aura entertained, but the toddler was relentless. nothing seemed to hold her attention for more than a few minutes. y/n had taken over for a bit, reading her a book, but even that failed after aura decided she’d rather flip the pages herself—at lightning speed.

“how is she still going?” y/n whispered, her eyes wide as aura zoomed across the living room again, running in circles around the coffee table. “she’s like a little tornado.”

trent leaned against the doorframe, watching with a mix of amusement and exhaustion. “i have no idea, but i’m starting to think we underestimated her.”

y/n sighed, glancing at the clock. “it’s only been an hour. i thought we’d be pros at this by now.”

“same,” trent muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. aura suddenly jumped onto the couch again, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she pointed at the tv.

“wheels on the bus!”

y/n’s eyes widened in horror as the opening notes of the familiar song began to play again. “oh no… not again.”

trent burst out laughing. “you said it wouldn’t be that bad. look at us now.”

aura began clapping along with the song, blissfully unaware of the adults slowly losing their minds.

y/n threw her hands up in mock surrender, a laugh bubbling up despite her exhaustion. “i’m hiding,” she whispered dramatically. “i’m not even joking, trent. if i hear that song one more time…”

with that, she tiptoed away, sneaking off down the hallway and into their bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her as she leaned against it, letting out a deep sigh of relief. silence. glorious, wonderful silence.

she slid down to sit on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest as she tried to compose herself. how did parents do this every day?

a few minutes passed before the door creaked open, and trent poked his head in, his face a mixture of amusement and exhaustion. “you’re hiding too, huh?”

y/n looked up, letting out a soft laugh. “i couldn’t take it anymore. i needed a breather.”

trent walked in, closing the door behind him before collapsing onto the bed with a groan. “same. i’ve heard ‘the wheels on the bus’ more times tonight than i have in my entire life.”

y/n snorted, crawling over to join him on the bed. she laid on her side, propping her head up on her hand. “she’s so cute, but wow. i’m exhausted.”

“me too,” trent admitted, closing his eyes as he lay back against the pillows. “and she’s just one kid.”

“one kid,” y/n repeated in disbelief. “how are we going to handle two?”

“we’ve got time to figure it out,” trent said, though there was a faint note of doubt in his voice.

y/n let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “if i hear ‘the wheels on the bus’ one more time, i might lose it.”

trent grinned, reaching over to gently squeeze her hand. “well, look at it this way—if we can survive aura, we can survive anything.”

just as they began to relax, they heard a knock on the door. both of them froze, glancing at each other before they heard a tiny voice calling out.

“uncle trent? auntie y/n? where are you?”

trent groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “i guess break time’s over.”

“let’s just pretend we didn’t hear her,” y/n whispered, her voice half-joking, half-serious.

“she’s relentless,” trent muttered, reluctantly getting up and heading toward the door. but as soon as he opened it, he was met with aura’s wide, expectant eyes.

“what are you doing?” she asked innocently, her hands on her hips like a tiny adult.

trent glanced back at y/n, who was stifling her laughter behind a pillow. “uh… nothing, aura. nothing at all.”

as aura skipped back toward the living room, trent turned to y/n, his expression a mix of exhaustion and amusement. “remind me to never say ‘how hard can it be’ again.”

y/n sat up, shaking her head with a grin. “never again.”

trent shut the door behind aura and collapsed back onto the bed with an exaggerated groan. "we are never saying yes to babysitting again. when our kids are born, we should just… I don’t know… leave them on some rich family's porch and live our newlywed lives in peace."

y/n burst out laughing, leaning into him as her shoulders shook. "right? let them raise our kids while we sip cocktails on some beach in the maldives, living our best lives."

trent grinned, pulling her into his side. "exactly. we’ll visit once in a while, just enough to make sure they don’t forget us."

y/n giggled, nuzzling into his chest. "honestly, we’ll probably be too exhausted to even think about it. if aura is anything to go by… we’ll never sleep again."

“oh, we’re doomed,” trent sighed dramatically, but his smile betrayed his lightheartedness. “but at least we’ll have each other, yeah?”

y/n looked up at him, a soft, genuine smile on her face now. “yeah, we will.” she shifted closer, her voice lowering, teasing. “and when we get those rare, precious moments alone… we’ll have lots of fun."

trent's eyes sparkled mischievously as he wrapped his arms around her. "oh, I’m counting on it."

she giggled again, snuggling into him as they both relaxed, the chaos of the night fading away as they enjoyed the peace between them.

it was late, the kind of quiet that settled like a soft blanket over their home. y/n and trent were curled up together on the couch, her head resting on his chest as they mindlessly watched something on tv, neither fully paying attention. they were both so tired yet peaceful, soaking in the rare quiet before the chaos of their twins arriving. y/n shifted slightly, a small, almost unconscious wince passing over her face as her hand went to her belly.

trent noticed immediately, his eyes flickering down to her hand. “hey, you alright?” he murmured, brushing his thumb over her shoulder.

she blinked, almost confused herself, her hand resting over the curve of her stomach as she tried to figure out the sensation. it had been so quick, a little nudge that she’d almost missed it. “i… i don’t know,” she whispered, her brows knitting together in surprise.

and then, there it was again—a tiny, distinct little tap from inside, like a secret meant just for her. her eyes widened, and she looked up at trent, realization dawning as her mouth dropped open. “oh my god… trent… i think… i think they just kicked.”

trent’s eyes lit up, a slow grin spreading across his face, and he scrambled to sit up, both hands immediately coming to rest on her belly, fingers splayed wide. “no way… are you serious?” he whispered, his voice full of wonder.

as if on cue, another gentle nudge pressed against his hand. his mouth dropped open, his expression one of pure awe as he looked back at her, speechless.

that was it; they both broke into the biggest, teary-eyed smiles, their eyes locked in mutual disbelief and wonder. “that’s… that’s them, babe,” he breathed, voice cracking just slightly as the reality of it all washed over him. “they’re really in there… they’re real.”

she nodded, her own eyes brimming with tears, her emotions too tangled to express. she let out a small laugh, sniffling as she reached for his hand, pressing it firmly against her belly as if to share the moment just between the two of them. “i can’t believe it… it’s like they’re saying hi.”

trent pulled her closer, not even bothering to wipe the tears that slipped down his cheeks. his voice was choked as he whispered, “hi, little ones… it’s your dad. can’t wait to meet you both.”

y/n let out a small, shaky laugh, burying her face into his shoulder as the tears finally spilled over, full of a love so intense it left her breathless. “god, trent, they’re actually in there… kicking… our babies.”

he nodded, his own voice rough, kissing the top of her head as he tried to keep himself together, but failed miserably. “our babies,” he repeated, laughing through his tears, brushing his thumb over her cheek to wipe away her tears even as his own kept coming. “you’re doing so amazing, y/n. you’re… you’re incredible.”

they sat there, holding each other, both openly crying, laughing at how ridiculous they probably looked. but in that moment, nothing else mattered—not the chaos of their schedules, the stresses of the future, or anything else in the world. all they knew was that they were here, together, with two little lives that had just announced themselves in the most perfect way.

trent pressed one last kiss to her forehead, his fingers never leaving her stomach as he whispered softly, “can’t wait for you to meet them, love. they’re already so perfect. just like you.”

trent was moving around the house, pulling on his liverpool tech fleece, that one she usually couldn't stop herself from admiring on him. it clung to him just right, a familiar sight that, despite herself, y/n loved to see. his bag sat by the door, toiletries zipped up tight, everything packed and ready for another away match. the reality of it set a quiet weight in her chest—he’d be gone for days, missing the little things, their routines, their tiny moments that were quickly becoming the core of her days.

but she stayed silent, acting distracted, looking over some paperwork on the couch. every time trent passed her to grab something, he’d pause, drop a quick “bye, i love you” or “see you soon,” but she barely responded, nodding absently, her eyes never leaving the papers. her mind was somewhere else, far from the day’s plans or the to-do list in her hand. she just kept thinking about how long he’d be gone, how he’d miss the way the babies kept learning new little things every day, the way they needed him just as much as she did. before, she could shrug it off, let him go without so much ache, but now... she felt like a piece of her was leaving, too.

he paused, eyebrows drawn in as he waited for her to say something, anything, back. “y/n… you know i love you, right?” he tried again, voice edging with a bit of humor as if to coax a smile from her, but she barely lifted her head, just hummed something that sounded like “uh-huh.”

he walked away for a second, grabbing his bag, but returned to her side, looking down at her with a soft, exaggerated sigh. “okay… i love you, y/n.” his voice lingered, as if giving her time to respond.

another “uh-huh.” he tilted his head, crossing his arms, his pout growing. “did you hear me? I. love. you.”

finally, trent walked over to the couch, leaning down with a gentle smile, aiming a kiss toward her, but she turned her cheek just before his lips brushed her. he pulled back, brow raised, studying her in that careful way that was too knowing, too aware.

“hey,” he murmured, crouching down a bit so they were eye-level, “what’s going on, baby? you’re not gonna kiss me goodbye?” he tried to keep it light, but the hurt was obvious in his voice, like he couldn’t understand why she was pulling away.

she gave him a small shrug, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the corner of a page. “i dunno,” she said, feigning nonchalance, “just... thought you were in a rush.”

trent’s eyes softened, catching the edge of her sadness even in her attempt to hide it. he leaned in closer, not letting her off so easy. “c’mon,” he whispered, slipping a hand to her chin to lift her face gently toward him, “don’t pretend with me. what’s really going on?”

her defenses broke a bit, and she sighed, letting her gaze fall. “it’s just… every time you leave now, it feels harder. before, i could handle it,” she admitted, voice low, almost like she didn’t want to say it out loud. “but now, with the babies… what happens when they need their daddy and he’s just… gone?”

trent’s face softened even more, his expression serious as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “baby, i know it’s hard. i don’t want to be away either, but i’m doing this for us, for them too.” his thumb traced gentle circles on her cheek, grounding her, pulling her out of her worries. “and no matter how far i go, you’re the first thing i’m thinking about, all of you. every minute.”

she bit her lip, glancing up at him with a vulnerable look. “sometimes it feels like it’s just gonna keep getting harder. like one day you’ll come back, and they’ll already be doing something new without you there to see it.”

trent’s heart clenched at her words, at the weight she was carrying alone. he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close despite her hesitation, letting her rest against him. “y/n, every little moment is a part of us,” he murmured, “whether i’m here or not. and when i’m away, i’ll keep reminding them just how much i’m wrapped around their little fingers—yours too.”

she let herself sink into his arms, her hands clutching the fabric of his fleece. “it’s not just them, you know. it’s me too.” her voice was soft, almost a whisper, carrying the weight of her feelings.

trent smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “oh, trust me, i know,” he said, playful but gentle, his eyes full of warmth. “don’t think i didn’t notice you ignoring me. thought you’d get away with it, huh?” he teased, and she laughed quietly against him, her walls slipping a little more. “i love you,” he said firmly, “and i don’t want you ever doubting that, okay?”

he leaned closer, nudging her playfully. “you’re not even gonna say it back?” he asked, faking a wounded look, his lip jutting out in a dramatic pout.

she finally looked up, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “mm, i don’t know. are you sure you deserve it?” she teased, fighting a grin.

his pout deepened, eyes widening as he stared at her with a mockingly hurt expression. “wow. wow here i am, practically professing my undying love, and you… you don’t even have the decency to throw me a ‘love you’ back?”

her smile finally broke through, and she reached out, tugging on the hem of his fleece. “alright, alright… i love you too, trent alexander-arnold” she whispered, barely able to keep from laughing at his dramatic pout.

he softened instantly, leaning down to kiss her cheek with a triumphant little smile. “that’s all i wanted.”

she nodded, managing a small smile as he kissed her properly, slow and warm. as he pulled back, he looked her in the eye, his thumb brushing away the hint of a tear. “i’ll be back before you know it,” he promised, his hand resting on her cheek.

“you’d better be,” she whispered, managing a smile. “i’ll be waiting.”

he lingered just a second longer, pressing one last kiss to her forehead, before finally standing and grabbing his bag, casting her one last look before heading out.

after the match, trent found himself strolling the quiet streets of milan with dom by his side, the city's soft glow and evening crowds buzzing around them. dom was mid-sentence, pointing out a sleek italian shoe store, but trent’s eyes had caught on something else entirely: a boutique with tiny designer outfits displayed in the window. his mind went straight to the twins, and his lips curved up in that undeniable smile—the one he got whenever he thought of them. he nudged dom, nodding toward the shop.

“you really going in there, trent?” dom laughed, eyeing the window with mild amusement. “y/n’s gonna think you’ve lost it, mate.”

“ah, come on,” trent chuckled, “she’s always saying we shouldn’t spoil them yet, ‘cause they’ll grow out of things so fast.” he could practically hear her voice from a few weeks back, playful but firm: “they’re gonna be huge, trent, and outgrow those little outfits before we know it. let’s hold off a bit, yeah?”

but tonight? the temptation to ignore that and pick up a few special things for his little ones was too strong to resist. “but… we know what we are having now,” he reasoned, laughing as he pulled open the door. “besides, it’s milan. why not get them something fancy?”

dom shook his head, but he was grinning too, following trent in. trent was quick to scan the shelves, carefully picking up tiny designer onesies, delicate caps, and soft blankets, already picturing his boys in them.

“gonna go home with a suitcase just for them, aren’t you?” dom teased as trent held up a tiny sweater with such pride.

“maybe,” trent replied, shrugging but grinning all the same. “i mean, how can you not? i just… i want everything to be special for them, you know?”

as they entered the boutique, dom’s amusement turned into outright laughter watching trent’s reaction to the rows of tiny designer clothes. trent’s eyes had practically doubled in size as he spotted a pair of matching baby outfits—a soft, cream-colored onesie with the most delicate lace for a little girl and a classic, navy blue set with tiny buttons for a boy. without even thinking, he reached for both, holding them up with a wide grin, completely lost in imagining his twins wearing them.

“mate, it’s like you’re on a shopping spree for royalty,” dom teased, watching trent turn the onesies over in his hands, grinning like he’d just struck gold. “y/n’s definitely gonna scold you for this one.”

trent laughed, knowing dom wasn’t wrong. he could already hear y/n’s mock-stern voice in his head, reminding him about not going overboard. it took him back to a few weeks before, right after the gender reveal, when she’d put her hand on his arm, eyes soft but firm: “they’re gonna grow so fast, trent. we don’t need a whole closet yet.” she’d playfully poked his chest, adding, “plus, you know they’re gonna be huge, just like their dad.”

but trent couldn’t help himself now. “look at these, dom,” he said, holding up the tiny clothes like he’d discovered the world’s greatest treasure. “i mean… how can i not get them? one day they’ll look back on these, you know? little heirlooms.”

“yeah, little designer heirlooms,” dom smirked, leaning back to enjoy the scene. “i never thought i’d see trent alexander-arnold losing it over baby clothes.”

“laugh all you want, mate,” trent shot back, but he was laughing too, unfazed. “just wait until you see their nursery. y/n’s been the one to keep me in line, but she’ll love these. i just… i want our little girl and boy to have everything.” he gently ran his fingers over the fabric, his mind wandering back to y/n’s growing bump and the soft kick he’d felt under his hand just a few nights ago.

“gonna go home with a suitcase just for them, aren’t you?” dom teased as trent held up a tiny sweater with such pride.

“maybe,” trent replied, shrugging but grinning all the same. “i mean, how can you not? i just… i want everything to be special for them, you know?”

“sounds like you’re already in full dad mode,” dom laughed. “how’s it been, anyway? the whole pregnancy?”

trent’s gaze softened, shifting as he thought of y/n. “honestly, man? she’s an angel. strong as hell. i can’t imagine anyone else doing this with me.” he shook his head, a mixture of awe and love in his eyes. “she’s handling it like it’s nothing, but… i know it’s hard on her. makes me wanna be the best for her, for all of them.”

dom nodded, his expression serious for once. “sounds like she’s lucky to have you too, mate. those boys are gonna have a great dad.”

trent felt a warmth in his chest, a strange but welcome mix of pride and gratitude. “just hope i can live up to all of it.”

with his new stash of tiny clothes packed, he headed back with dom, already envisioning y/n’s face when she saw the little gifts. and as he boarded the plane back, his mind wandered again to her—her laughter, her strength, her determination to keep him grounded even when all he wanted to do was spoil her and their bbabies.

dom nodded, clearly amused but softening a bit at the sight of trent so devoted and ready for the changes ahead. “you’re really gone, aren’t you?”

trent glanced up, smiling. “absolutely. i want them to know, from day one, they’ve got us—me and y/n. she’s made everything feel… possible, you know? her strength is insane as hell, that one.”

dom gave him a nod, acknowledging the emotion in trent’s voice, and offered a small smile. “they’re lucky kids, trent. lucky to have both of you.”

with his shopping bags filled and his heart full, trent couldn’t wait to get back and show y/n. he could picture her face, the way she’d light up at the thought of their twins in the carefully chosen outfits, and even the little laugh she’d give him as she pretended to be cross with him. in the end, though, she’d know just how much he cared—and how he’d been counting down every second to be back with her and their babies.

trent steps through the front door, dropping his bags as quietly as he can. he knows it’s late, but that doesn’t stop the wide smile spreading across his face as he sees y/n coming down the stairs, her face lighting up the moment she sees him. she moves as fast as she can, waddling into his arms, and he scoops her up, pressing a long kiss to her lips as he holds her close.

“missed you,” he murmurs against her lips, grinning when she nods, a sleepy smile on her face.

“missed you more.” she nuzzles into his chest, taking in his scent, the faint smell of his cologne, the hint of travel exhaustion. they stand there for a long moment, just holding each other, both soaking up the comfort of being back together.

but then y/n’s eyes drift down to the bags he’s brought in and land on an unexpected sight—a second suitcase, one she doesn’t recognize.

“what’s… that?” she asks, her brow arching as she points at the extra bag, suspicion creeping into her voice.

trent glances down, and for a split second, his face gives him away. “oh, that? uh, it’s nothing.” he starts to push it behind him with his foot, but y/n’s eyes narrow playfully.

“nothing?” she crosses her arms, giving him a look. “you don’t usually need an extra suitcase, trent. you pack like, one hoodie and think you’re sorted for a week.”

he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances at the bag, trying to downplay it. “well… i might’ve… done a little shopping while i was there.”

“shopping?” she echoes, suspicion morphing into amusement as she moves to grab the suitcase, but he’s quicker, pulling it away. “for what?”

“for our little ones,” he says, a sheepish grin creeping onto his face.

her jaw drops slightly, and she lets out a dramatic sigh, hands on her hips as she shakes her head. “trent! we said we’d wait until they were closer to coming before we started buying clothes… they’re growing at superhuman speed, remember?”

he nods, looking more guilty than ever, but there’s a glimmer of excitement in his eyes that he can’t hide. “i know, i know… but y/n, i was in milan. and you know they’ve gotta be fresh… our babies have to look on point from the start.”

she rolls her eyes, fighting back a laugh. “fresh? trent, they’re barely the size of a pineapple right now.”

“exactly,” he retorts, raising an eyebrow, “and they need to be the freshest pineapples anyone’s ever seen.”

she lets out a little huff, tapping her finger on her chin as if seriously considering his reasoning. “right… except, remember we talked about saving a little for later? you know, in case you spend all your money?”

a smug smile crosses his face, and he steps closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. “first of all it’s our money and please, y/n. look at us. do we look like we’re gonna run out anytime soon?”

she can’t help but snort at his confidence, rolling her eyes again. “maybe not right now, but what happens when we do, huh? i’ll have to find someone richer than you.”

he raises a brow, his smile turning into something darker as he steps closer, backing her up against the counter. his voice drops low, almost a purr. “oh yeah? someone richer?”

she grins, still teasing, hands pressing against his chest to keep a little distance between them. “mhm. someone who doesn’t go overboard and buy out entire stores before the babies are even here.”

his eyes narrow, a playful glint flickering in them, and before she can react, he grabs her waist, pulling her flush against him, his voice a soft challenge. “try me. i dare you.” his hand slides down, giving her a firm smack on her bum, making her jump and laugh.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, feigning innocence, though her pulse skips at the way he’s looking at her.

“it means,” he murmurs, leaning in close enough that his lips brush against her ear, “you’re not going anywhere, baby. so, you better get used to me spoiling you—and them—rotten.”

she feels her cheeks heat up as he leans back, watching her with a smug grin, and she scoffs, trying to keep her composure. “oh, so sure of yourself, are we?”

his hands slide to her hips, his thumbs grazing over her bump as he gives her a long, slow look. “absolutely.” he gives her a quick kiss, then leans back, smirking as he takes in the flustered look on her face. “besides, you’d never find someone who’d love our kids as much as i do… or someone who’d take care of you and your insatiable sex drive.” his eyes gleam with mischief as he steps back, looking far too pleased with himself.

she rolls her eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. “we’ll see about that.”

he chuckles, grabbing her again and pulling her closer. “oh, we will,” he whispers, his mouth brushing over her neck before he kisses her again, slower this time, leaving no room for doubt. “and trust me, baby you’re not finding anyone better than this.”

they lay together in the dim glow of their room, the soft rustle of the sheets wrapping around them like a cocoon. trent’s arm draped lazily over y/n’s shoulders, his fingers gently playing with her hair as they basked in the afterglow of their intimacy. their skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat, the heat between them a comforting reminder of the connection they had just shared. the world outside faded into a distant hum, leaving just the two of them in their own little paradise.

as they settled into the quiet, y/n felt a warmth radiate from trent, a steady heartbeat beneath her ear that calmed her racing thoughts. she shifted slightly, glancing up at him, taking in the way the light danced across his features, illuminating the love and strength she had always admired.

they lay together in the dim glow of their room, the soft rustle of the sheets wrapping around them like a cocoon. trent’s arm draped lazily over y/n’s shoulders, his fingers gently playing with her hair as they basked in the afterglow of their intimacy. the world outside faded into a distant hum, leaving just the two of them in their own little paradise.

“you know,” she began, her voice soft and thoughtful, “we’ve come a long way to come back to ourselves. an even better version of us.”

trent smiled down at her, his eyes glimmering with affection. “we really have, haven’t we? it’s been a hell of a journey, but i wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

a playful smile crossed y/n’s lips as she remembered the way they navigated the chaos of impending parenthood, supporting each other through the ups and downs. “i just feel like… with everything happening, and the twins coming… it’s like we’re at this turning point.”

“yeah?” trent prodded, raising an eyebrow, intrigued by where her thoughts were leading. “what do you mean?”

y/n took a deep breath, her heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves. she thought about how close they had become, how much she cherished every moment they spent together. it felt like they were already more than just partners; they were a family. and yet, there was one more step she couldn’t shake from her mind.

“i’ve been thinking about how we’re starting this new chapter in our lives,” she said slowly, her eyes locking onto his. “and how we’re going to raise our kids together.”

“yeah, it’s going to be amazing,” he replied, a soft smile spreading across his face. “they’re going to have the best parents.”

y/n felt her pulse quicken as she continued, “and i know we’ve talked about the future, about how we want to be there for each other and for them. but i can’t help but think—”

“think what?” he prompted, his expression shifting to one of intense curiosity.

she bit her lip, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her. she could see the love in his eyes, the way he was so fully present, and she felt a rush of determination. this was it. this was the moment to say it out loud, to make it real.

“let’s get married.”

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catierambles · 3 days ago

Text

Witch Hunt Ch. 5

Cait woke to knocking on her room door, turning over to check her phone blearily. Who the hell was knocking at her door at 3 in the morning? Getting out of bed as the knocking became more insistent, she looked through the peephole, pausing for a moment when she saw Walter standing out there. She had given him the name of the hotel she was staying at along with the room number in case there was an emergency, but why was he here now? Why didn't he call first?

Opening the door, she gave him a curious look. He looked like he had just gotten out of bed himself, throwing shoes and leaving. A nearly threadbare T-shirt clung to his chest, grey sweats that had definitely seen better days hanging on his hips.

“Walter?”

“Can I come in?” He asked and she nodded, stepping aside to let him in. “Sorry I woke you.”

“It's okay.” She said, turning on a lamp, “I'm guessing this isn't work related.”

“Not in the way you mean.” He said and sat down heavily on the end of the bed. “How do you do it?”

“Do...what?”

“Forget their faces.” He said, “I've seen a lot of fucked up shit since becoming a cop, but these victims...I--” He stopped with a sigh. “I can see them when I close my eyes. How do you get through it?”

“By catching the monster responsible, and believing they're at peace because of it.” She said, sitting next to him and he nodded.

“Can I stay here tonight?” He asked, looking at her hopefully. “I’m not looking forward to going back to an empty house.”

“Of course, you can. I think the couch folds out into—” She was cut off as he kissed her suddenly, holding the back of her head with his fingers in her hair. Gods, his lips were as soft as she thought they’d be. “Walter.” He pulled her into another kiss, more insistent this time, but she pushed him away gently. “You don’t want this.”

“Yes, I do.” He said, nodding, and tried to kiss her again, but she leaned back.

“You’re being haunted by the dead right now, Walter, it’s only natural that you feel compelled to do something to make you feel alive.” She said and he sighed, his hand going to the back of her neck. He breathed for a moment, his eyes closed, before he nodded. “You want human contact, so I won’t kick you to the couch, but don’t try to do anything you’ll regret in the morning.” He just nodded again and released her, kicking off his shoes as she got up to turn off the lamp. They got settled in, Walter laying with his back to her and it wasn’t long before she heard his breathing deepen and even out, letting her know he was asleep. Cait stared at his shoulders for a bit before turning over, keeping her back to him as she closed her eyes, drifting back off to sleep.

Cait woke gently to a heartbeat in her ear, strong arms holding her to a warm chest. Opening her eyes she saw that Walter must have pulled her towards him during the night, as she was laying half on his chest with his arms around her. She could feel the musculature of his chest and arms, the layer of hair covering his skin through the t-shirt. His breath ruffled her hair slightly, letting her know he was still asleep and she sighed, closing her eyes again to just enjoy the moment while it lasted.

His arms tightened briefly and her eyes opened again as she heard him take in a deep breath, his chest inflating.

“Good morning.” He exhaled, the timbre of his sleepy voice making his chest shake.

“Good morning.” She said and looked up at him, settling her chin on his chest. His eyes were still closed, but his brow knitted briefly.

“I came onto you last night.”

“You did.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She said, “If I had been offended, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Thanks for...you know.”

“Not taking advantage of you in a vulnerable state?” She said, “Don’t mention it.”

“What time is it?” He asked and she moved, his arms falling away as she grabbed her phone.

“We got about two hours of sleep.”

“So still early.”

“Very.” She said, putting her phone back on the nightstand.

“Cait?” He asked and she looked at him, seeing him staring at her through the gloom. “Come here?” She hesitated for a moment before going back to his side, letting him pull her in until she was on his chest again. His hands pressed against her back and she didn’t quite know where to put her hands so she settled on laying one against his waist, as the other was pinned between them. Damn he smelled good, her face tucked into his neck. She could feel his pulse thrumming under his skin, his hand moving back and forth over her arm. She looked up as he pulled away slightly, seeing him staring down at her, the look in his eyes making her cheeks heat slightly.

His hand came up to cradle the back of her neck and with a tug, he kissed her, his eyes closing. It didn’t feel like it did last night, with him trying to build a fire by using gasoline. This was gentle, unrushed and unhurried, and she found herself responding to him, her fingers curling into his waist. His breath was heavy when he pulled away, taking a moment before kissing her again, his lips parting hers and, as if testing the waters, his tongue touching hers briefly. The sound she made came from deep in her chest and her hand came up to weave in his curls, finding they were as soft as she wondered.

“Fuck.” He whispered, a growl to his voice. “You’re so beautiful. Can I have you?”

“Yes.” She said with a nod and he kissed her again, rolling them over so she was on her back and he was pressing her into the mattress, ducking under her chin to mouth along her throat.

He took his time with her, his lips moving over her skin as more was revealed. His large hands felt almost scorching on her skin as he mapped her with his palms, cupping her breasts and squeezing gently before pulling them down her sides. Hooking his fingers in her shorts, he pulled them down and off along with her small clothes, kneeling over her nude beneath him. She could see how his exploration of her was affecting him, his sweatpants tenting slightly. Moving over her, he kissed her, pushing his tongue past her lips to slide against hers and she shuddered, the sound she made swallowed by him, as he eased a hand between her legs, exploring her with his fingers.

Cait broke the kiss, swallowing heavily as her fingers curled around his biceps, her eyes closed, feeling as he pressed his forehead against hers even as he eased two fingers inside her, pumping them slowly. He pulled her into another kiss, her legs falling open for him, giving him easier access. She felt as he moved down, opening her eyes to see him drag his shirt over his head as he settled between her legs, holding her thighs solidly in his arms. With a quick look to her, he buried his mouth in her center, his hands wrapping around her hips to keep his mouth tightly sealed against her, his tongue moving through her and flicking against her clit.

Sounds left her lips as he pushed her higher and higher and his grip tightened, keeping her still as she tried to move away, the sensations starting to become too much. He started rocking her hips against his face, his eyes closed as he hummed against her and it pushed her over the edge, her fingers in his hair as she released against his mouth.

He licked her clean, make sure to get every bit of her before kneeling above her again and she could see how his beard glittered slightly in the light emanating cheap alarm clock on the night stand. Walter pushed down his sweatpants and she gave him a slow sweep of her eyes as he bobbed free. He moved into her embrace as she reached for him, settling into the cradle of her hips and he kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips and tongue as he reached between them.

He swallowed the whimper she gave out as he started pushing into her and she broke the kiss, her head falling back against the pillows as he stretched her open almost to the point of pain. Her inner muscles clung around his thick length and, with some adjusting, he hilted himself inside her, his breath hot and heavy against her neck. With his fingers wrapped around one of her thighs, pulling her leg around his waist, he started to move, rocking into her in an ever increasing tempo until the bed started making sounds in protest and she clung to him, moving her hips in time with his, almost as if she were riding him even though she was under him.

“Fucking perfect.” He groaned into her skin and her eyes rolled back at the feeling of him sliding inside her. “Ah, fuck, you're fucking perfect.”

“Walter.” She panted, pulling his face out of her neck so she could kiss him, making small sounds against his lips with every push of his hips.

“Come for me, my perfect girl. My perfect girl. Just mine. All mine.”

“Yes, all yours.” She said, nodding, “Don't stop. Please. Don't stop.” His teeth brushed over her shoulder before biting down as if to keep her in place as he claimed her. It felt almost...primal with him, animalistic, and it pushed her over the edge again, crying out as her hips lifted off the bed, pressing tight against his, taking him fully as she pulsed and quivered around him. His movements became almost savage, grunting and growling against her neck until he pushed inside her fully with a snarled expletive and she felt him twitch inside her, warmth settling in her lower stomach.

She could feel his frantically beating heart against her chest and she held onto him, running her fingers through the sweat damp curls at the base of his neck,

“Are you all right?” He asked after a moment in a low voice, breathing heavily. “I was a bit...intense there towards the end.”

“I’m fine.” She said, nodding. “I’m perfect.”

“Yes, you are.” He said, picking his head up to kiss her, “Can I keep you?” Any sarcastic remark she might have made died in her throat at the look in his eyes. It looked like...hope.

“I’m yours.” Cait said and pulled him into a kiss.

#henry cavill #walter marshall #witch hunt

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pdwoozi · 8 months ago

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madsfavs · 1 month ago

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rafe fucking you because you’re the only thing he feels like he can control when he’s spiraling out 🙂‍↕️

✦ 18+ smut ✦ minors dni ✦

dating rafe is the ultimate whiplash. you’re either the only thing he thinks about, or the annoying girlfriend he has to put up with. he texts you sweetly in the morning to come over, and when you go see him it’s a complete 180. he’s pacing the room, ranting on the phone to someone, and acting like you don’t exist.

“rafe i can come back later-”

“NO. sit down and wait until i’m fucking ready.”

he snaps at you and points at the couch, giving you no room for argument. you nod meekily and sit down on the couch, watching him yell at someone on the phone in an angry, and slightly panicked, tone.

rose walks in, sees rafe yelling, looks at you, and walks right back out. smart.

“i don’t fucking care! we need to figure something out!” he rants to the person on the other side of the phone. you sit there, a little bored, a little turned on by his yelling. “you know what? don’t call me until you have answers you dumb piece of shit.”

he hangs up and throws his phone against the wall, smashing the screen and putting a dent in the wall. he puts his hands over his face and yells angrily. “FUCK.”

you jump a little at the noise and watch rafe nervously. he won’t hurt you, you think.

“rafey? can i help you?” you look at him as he paces the room, mumbling curses under his breath.

“NO. just shut up. i need to do something, sarah- and her little gang of pogues are fucking EVERYTHING up. wait here, don’t move.” he doesn’t spare you a glance as he grabs his car keys and slams the door on the way out of the house.

you wait for hours, laying on the couch scrolling through your phone, watching tv, it was a little boring, but you didn’t want to piss rafe off more than he already was.

four hours later, when he finally walks back into the house, he doesn’t say a word. he walks over to you, and immediately picks you up, carrying you into his bedroom.

“hey rafey-“ you gasp as he throws you over his shoulder and walks into the bedroom angrily, slamming the door behind him. “uh, is sarah okay? what happened?”

he throws you onto the bed and grabs your hips, flipping you onto your stomach. “do me a favor, and just stop talking. i don’t need- all of your fucking questions right now.”

you nod and look over at your shoulder at him. he tugs your shorts down and gives a harsh smack on your bottom. “good girl. keep that mouth shut.”

you flinch slightly at the sting of the smack but push your hips back towards him. he pulls your shorts down further, the fabric bunching at your knees, and you feel a flush rise to your cheeks.

rafe's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you back towards him. you feel his breath on the back of your neck, hot and ragged, and his chest presses against your back, his heart pounding against your skin.

he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, and whispers; his voice is low and rough. "don't move."

you nod and lay there obediently as he grabs a pillow and shoves it under your hips so your ass is pointed towards him. he pulls his belt off and wraps it around your wrists, tying them behind your back.

“so fucking good, just for me. right?” he whispers, his hand groping your chest through your shirt as he pushes tugs his pants down.

you nod and whimper a little as his rough hands move under your shirt, squeezing your chest. his calloused fingers brush against your nipples. you feel a rush of arousal shoot to your core as he pinches your nipples, his grip tightening just enough to make you gasp. your wrists strain against the belt, but it's tied too tight, holding you in place.

"you're so perfect like this. such a good listener." his hands move down your body, tracing the curve of your hips, his fingers digging into your skin.

you hear his pants hit the floor, the sound echoing through the room as he steps out of them. you try to look back, to see him, but he grabs your neck and pushes you into the mattress. his grip is firm, but not painful, as he holds you in place.

"just let me fuck you," he says bluntly, his voice low and rough. you feel him pull himself out, and then he gives himself a few tugs, the sound of his hand moving over his skin making you squirm. he shoves himself into your tight walls, and you gasp as he fills you.

he doesn’t give you time to adjust, his hips immediately snapping in and out, the force of his thrusts making your body jerk forward, your face pressed into the mattress. you whine desperately, trying to hold onto something, but your hands are trapped behind your back, the belt digging into your wrists as you struggle to find a grip.

rafe presses your face into the mattress, his hand on the back of your head, holding you in place as he pounds into you. the sound of his labored breathing and the creaking of the bed are the only things you can focus on, your mind numb from the intensity of the sensations.

“you’re the only one that fucking listens to me. sarah and her little friends have to go and screw everything up-“ he starts ranting as he buries his cock within your walls, ignoring your little noises. his thrusts become more aggressive, his hips slapping against your ass as he vents his frustration. you feel his anger and tension seeping into you, his cock pulsating with each word. the belt around your wrists digs deeper into your skin, but you don't dare to struggle, fearing it might make him angrier.

as he continues to rant, his words become a jumbled mess, but the venom in his voice is unmistakable.

“i’ll fucking kill her- i’ll kill all of those damn pogues.” he snarls, slapping your ass before grabbing your wrists by the belt and pulling you up so you’re kneeling on the bed in front of him, your back pressed against his chest as he fucks up into you.

you feel his heart pounding against your skin, the rhythm intense and wild. his hands, still gripping the belt around your wrists, pull you tighter against him, and you feel his cock surge deeper into you. the bed creaks beneath you, the sound echoing through the room as he slams into you, his hips snapping wildly.

rafe's lips brush against your ear, his voice a low, menacing whisper. "you're the only one who doesn't defy me. the only one who listens."

he shoves you back onto the bed, pulling your hips up and pressing your face back into the mattress as he mounts you from behind. he pins you down, his weight crushing you into the bed. his hands grip your hips, his fingers digging deep into your skin as he holds you in place, his cock still buried deep within you.

as he begins to move, his hips slapping against your ass, you feel his anger and frustration boiling over, his movements becoming more aggressive and primal. the bed creaks and groans beneath you, the sound echoing through the room as he pounds into you, his breathing heavy and labored.

his fingers wrap around your throat, the pressure gentle yet unyielding, as his hips snap against yours. the sound of his labored breathing fills your ears, and you feel his hot breath dancing across the nape of your neck.

"you're fucking mine, you get that?" he growls, his voice low and menacing. "this pussy is mine, this pretty little face is mine, everything is mine."

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tender-rosiey · 2 months ago

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Hi. This is my first time writing arequest so i dont really know what im doing but i love your husband sukuna series and i wanna ask for a husband sukuna with a shy baby daughter bc your sukuna is 🤌

reluctance — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: so glad you like my husband!sukuna works <33 hope this one is to your liking as well MWUAH 🫶

“come on, d/n,” you coax gently.

your daughter, barely two years old, shakes her head from behind your legs, her tiny hands clutching the fabric of your kimono as she hides from the imposing figure of her father.

sukuna stands at the doorway, his arms crossed, his usual stern expression in place.

“she’s still hiding?” sukuna raises an eyebrow, his deep voice filling the room, though it isn’t harsh.

you kneel, gently petting your daughter’s head, “she’s shy. you know how she gets when you’re around.”

sukuna exhales slowly. he observes your daughter quietly. wide-eyed but cautious, her tiny fingers tightening their grip on you. your daughter was notably quite soft.

it didn’t help that her father, sukuna, didn’t exactly have the most inviting presence.

“come here,” he says, his tone gruff, holding out a hand.

the little girl hesitates, her bottom lip trembling slightly. you place a reassuring hand on her back and whisper softly, “it’s okay” you smile, “that’s your dad; he won’t hurt you.”

at your words, sukuna looks down at your daughter, his daughter.

she looks up at you, then back at sukuna. with the smallest shuffle, she takes one step toward him then sees him quirk an eyebrow which makes her quickly retreat, still unsure.

sukuna clicks his tongue, while you giggle. your daughter clings harder onto you at the sound of his disapproval.

“she sure is jumpy,” he says, stretched hand moving to rest on his hips, “how the hell is that my daughter?”

“ever studied biology?”

“do not get smart with me,” he warns, but his threats have long lost their effect on you.

the little interaction gives your daughter a sense of familiarity, seeing you talk so easily with him. with some courage finally mustered, your daughter blinks up at sukuna, her small voice barely audible as she mumbles, “papa...?”

sukuna’s sharp gaze relaxes just the faintest bit at the sound of her voice, “yes. I’m right here.”

she stares for another moment, before she toddles over to him. she stumbles and holds desperately onto his legs. she looks up at him, and he gives her no reaction.

your daughter takes that as a good sign, and she looks back at you with sparkly eyes.

“there you go,” you laugh, standing up. “see? not so bad.”

sukuna looks at your daughter, then back at you, “you coddle her too much.”

you fold your arms with a playful smirk, “she’s two. she’s allowed to be coddled a little.”

“she’ll be stronger if she learns early.” sukuna’s voice is firm. she is clinging to him now, a little less hesitant as she begins to tug at his kimono.

she lets out small mumbles as she tries to gain his attention.

"uh-huh, sure," you tease, stepping closer and placing your hand on his forearm, "you’re so tough, honey. maybe we should get her a little curse to toughen her up. would that make you happy?"

he scoffs but doesn’t answer, his attention flicking back to the girl holding onto him. you could see the faintest hint of something in his expression, though it wasn’t something he would ever acknowledge verbally.

for some reason, the scene of his daughter faced with a curse, at least in this age, doesn’t particularly please him.

her eyes are soft. her entire being is. there is no way that she would survive, and knowing his little daughter, she will burst into tears the moment the curse appears. that conclusion makes him think.

he stays silent, before he finally mutters, "never mind. she's fine the way she is.”

you beam at his words and pull his face down to place a kiss on his cheek, “aww, you are going soft, yay!”

“I will kill you,” he sneers, but then he feels his daughter raise her arms. he looks down at her with a scowl, “what do you want, you brat?”

the tone makes her flinch back, but then she tightens her fist and stutters, “u-up!”

“you and your mother are insolent,” he side-eyes you, and you raise your hands in surrender. his eyes flick back to her, “you ordering me around?”

her eyes start to water, but she tries to persevere, “up…?”

your husband groans and bends down to pick her up. the way he gives into her demands is sweet in its own way.

it would make you laugh, if he didn’t pick you up in process which instead makes you gasp. now, both you and your daughter are carried—effortlessly—in his arms.

you smile widely at your husband, while he avoids looking at you. sukuna instead looks at you daughter. he then asks, “are you happy now?”

your daughter stares silently at him, and he stares at her back. in the midst all this staring, your daughter realizes something: her dad has a second face.

her lips start quivering, and she raises her hands to cover her face as she starts bawling and wailing

“ugh, why is she crying now?” your husband groans, irked by the sudden loud noise.

“your face probably scares her.”

“I hate kids.”

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fairy-angel222 · 9 months ago

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Everybody knows that i’m a good girl, officers

—in which getting caught stealing with your boyfriend leads to three handsome officers fucking you down at the station.

pairing: officers! gojo s, choso k, nanami k. x fem! reader

cw: smut, face fucking, hair pulling, filming, praise, size difference, belly bulge, fingering.. etc

Your heart raced as you and Toji were stopped in your tracks by a cop car. Attempting to turn around only to be stopped by another swerving in front of you. “Shit. T-Toji? What do we do?”

Watching as a tall, broad officer emerged from the vehicle’s front seat, gulping hard when the blond one’s dark eyes met yours. His face stonic as he stood with his hands in his pockets, letting out a small breath when he looked you up and down.

“Toji?” Turning your head to see your boyfriend long gone, having jumped hurriedly over the hood of the car before sprinting away with the stolen money. You whimpered to yourself, backing up when he began to stalk towards you. Yelping as your back hit a broad chest, arms situating themselves around your waist to steady you. “Careful sweetheart.”

Glancing up through your lashes to see a white haired man looking down at you with a smirk, his eyebrow raised in surprise. “Now what’s a pretty little thing like you stealing for?” he hummed.

And you only looked at your feet after noticing a black haired officer speaking into his walkie talkie about a thief on the loose. Giving a detailed description of your boyfriend. The hold on your waist tightened, and you were flipped around to look up at.. a black blindfold? An idea running through your head to knee him and make a run for it.

“Don’t even think about it. I can still see you.” watching as your eyes welled with tears, your hands gripping at the hem if your shirt. “P-please don’t arrest me. I promise i’ll never do it again.” you pleaded innocently.

The man scoffed, his hand reaching up for your face, his slender fingers digging into your cheeks, “Then tell me, what’re you doing stealing huh?”

“Gojo that’s enough.” A deep voice demanded. Gojo letting go of you with the roll of his eyes. Your body immediately putting some distance between the two of you. Only to be met with the sight of the same blond officer finally making his move. His face void of emotion as his muscles bulged through his shirt. The veins on his hand extra visible when he gripped something on his belt.

Your eyes widened when he pulled out a pair of handcuffs, tilting his head down at you with his tone serious. “You can either cooperate, or i arrest you and bring you down to the station. Your pick.”

The third officer walked up to your shivering form before you could speak. Your body being sandwiched between the two towering men.

“Nanami sir, the male that was with her has been arrested. Although he was able to knock down three of our m-“ He stuttered when he caught sight of you, your glassy eyes practically begging him to tell his friends to let you go. “Uhm- our men sir.” He finished with the clear of his throat.

“Thanks Kamo.” Nanami nodded, looking back to you with a hard stare. “Look, kid. I don’t have all day. We already have your little boyfriend and we can easily take you.”

“Not a kid..” you mumbled. Rough hands making their way to your chin, “You’re really taking us for fools aren’t ya? Take her down to the station.” Nanami commanded, throwing the handcuffs to Choso before he was walking away, getting into the vehicle and driving off.

“Should have just been a good girl and answered me.” Gojo laughed, pushing you over to Choso who did as he was taught, pressing you onto the side of the police vehicle before cuffing your first wrist. Your body twisting and turning making him groan, feeling his dick growing hard in his pants.

“W-wait! I’m sorry! I promise i’m a good girl— not a bad guy. Just please don’t arrest me.” you begged, hearing the click of the cuffs on your second wrist before you were being pushed into the back seat. Gojo looking at you through the rearview mirror. “It’s a bit too late for that don’t you think?” Allowing Choso to sit in the vehicle before speeding off. Some officer.

The whole ride was filled with your tiny sniffles as you asked to be let go in all different ways. Each one being met by a stern no which had you letting out a whine.

“You do a whole lotta talking for my liking.” Gojo sighed, “Makes me wanna fill your mouth with my cock to shut you up.” Smirking when that made you stop with panicked eyes.

When you arrived at the station. You were pulled through a hallway and past a room where you saw Toji. Anger on his face as he attempted to get up, scowling at the snickering officer when he was stopped by two pairs of handcuffs.

You were brought into another room, seeing Nanami already sitting there going through your file, his head turning to you, Gojo and Choso when he heard the slam of the door. “She’s still quiet i see.”

“She actually started talking, told her i’d make her suck my dick if she didn’t stop.” Gojo grinned, Nanami shaking his head as you were brought to sit in front of him. Gojo at your side and Choso leaned against the door.

“So.” The man started, clasping his hands on the desk with a sigh. “I see this isn’t your first time being arrested. Mind telling me why?”

You looked down at the glass top with a shrug, “i don’t know.”

Nanami motioned to Choso and Gojo with a nod. Choso closing the blinds of the stretch of glass connecting the room to the hallway. While Gojo pulled you up effortlessly, taking your place on the chair with you in his lap.

“Let’s try this again, mind telling me why?” You chewed at your lip, ignoring Gojo’s hot breath on your neck. “I did drugs, i drove while drunk when i was 15, i’ve shoplifted many times.” You listed shyly, watching as Nanami nodded along to your words.

“Nnh- ahh” you mewled when two fingers squeezed at your clit through your skirt, your thighs clenching as you shifted on the man’s lap. “God, I could do this all day.” Gojo whispered.

Nanami closed your file and slid it to the side, standing up and making his way in front of you. Stroking his thumb on your lip, “You’re really making things worse for yourself. Want to know what these records show?” He started, your eyes fixated on his body as he unbuttoned the top buttons on his shirt.

“They show that you’ve never done anything wrong.” His thumb slipping past your lips, “Show that you’re just a naive soul who covered for her friends and boyfriend on multiple occasions.” Looking up at his eyes through your lashes. “Show that you’re a good girl who trusts too easily.” He finished, watching you whimper underneath Gojo’s touch on your clit as you sucked lightly at his thumb. Your eyes closing with a hum.

“Do you think you’re a good girl baby?”

You nodded, “A very good girl, officer.” you muffled out past his finger, the eye contact never breaking until Gojo spoke. “I think she deserves an apology, doesn’t she?”

Nanami hummed a small yes, removing his finger from your lips and replacing it with his mouth instead. Kissing you softly as his hand reached up to wrap around your neck. Keeping your head steady as you moaned into him, tongues lewdy curling around each other.

Gojo grinned widely. “The fun’s finally getting started.” His eyes falling on Choso who stood red faced in the corner, his dick noticeably hard in his pants as Gojo ushered him over. “Kamo come here.”

Your mind felt fuzzy, wetness pooling between your legs as the large hand around your neck tightened at the sides. Letting out another moan when Gojo’s hand slipped under your skirt, running his fingers along your puffy folds through your panties.

“She’s soaked already.” he announced, chuckling when you mewled at the announcement, your face beginning to heat up.

“And don’t worry that pretty little head about that boyfriend of yours. You’re not the only one he’s been-“

“Gojo..” Nanami warned, his lips still moving against yours. Your heart tightened, eyes threatening to well up with tears as your suspicions were confirmed. Choso’s hand stroked your hair, “Don’t worry about that kay? Just focus on us.”

Gojo’s fingers began rubbing small circles on your clit, tearing your panties off of you when it began getting in his way. Nanami pulled away from your lips with a small smirk, sinking down to his knees in front of you.

Placing your legs onto his shoulders before bringing his face to your dripping cunt. “Make as much noise as you’s like. No one can hear us.”

His tongue darted out to lick a long stripe up your slit. A soft moan escaped your lips when he licked another. “Tastes like fucking heaven.” Gradually increasing his pace until he was lapping at your juices, his skilled tongue feasting on your wetness while Gojo kept up his pace in your swollen clit.

Your head fell back with a mewl, bringing your hands to the blond’s hair but stopped by the metal around your skin. You whimpered, “C-cuffs.”

Gojo groaned into your neck, grinding his clothed cock up into your ass. “Nah, like you better with them on.”

You moaned, back arching against Gojo when Nanami inserted two of his thick fingers into you. Curling them in and out directly onto your spot, your mouth hanging open in a string of cries when he began fucking them into your tightness.

Your noises were cut short by an angry red tip tapping your lips, Choso lightly taking hold of your head to help you sit up. His cock nestled between your parted lips waiting for you to take him in.

“Atta boy.” Gojo mused, watching as Choso pushed his cock further past your lips, a soft gag leaving your throat as he allowed you to adjust to his length. Only half of his cock being able to fit in your snug mouth. Choso moaned, your tongue swirling around his pre cum tip as you suckled on the mushroom head. Beginning to bob your head up and down without the use of your hands to keep you steady, your tongue licking along his vein each time you came back up.

A mewl sounded at the back of your tongue, the noise sending vibrations through Choso’s cock.

Your back arched as a coil built up in your stomach, your trembling legs being held apart by strong hands as your toes curled. Your hips jerking back and forth on Gojo’s lap as the pads of Nanami’s fingers pressed into your g spot. Him holding them in position by simply moving his fingertips on and off.

You cried out loudly around the cock in your mouth, drool running past your swollen lips and down your chin, Gojo leaning to lick it off your skin. “Nnhmf—“ you muffled, your eyes closing as you neared the edge. “ ‘mf closhe.”

The three men watched as your breathing sped up, unable to focus when Choso grabbed hold of your hair and manually fucked his cock down your throat. Careful enough to not hurt you.

You whimpered once more with a choked cry, your body spasming uncontrollably as you squirted onto the blond’s chin. Him groaning into you as he lapped it all up, locking his grip on your thighs when you tried to close your legs around his head.

“Oh hoho, look at her.” Gojo teased, “Can’t stop squirming, think we’re overstiming her. Are we, sweet thing?”

You nodded tearfully, Gojo kissing and biting at your neck while you sucked Choso off. His eyes met Nanami’s, both the men releasing you at the same time making you let out a shaky breath.

“We’re not done with you yet.”

Choso moaned as he neared his release, his abs tensing under his shirt and his cock twitching on your tongue. His head falling back with a loud groan before he was pulling out, fisting his cock roughly then cumming all over your pretty face. The sticky substance falling onto your now exposed chest thanks to Gojo.

Choso’s body quivered lightly as he finished spilling, his face quickly turning red again when he straightened his head to find both his colleagues smirking at him.

Gojo grinned, “Great, my turn.” standing up with you against him, kicking back the chair before bending you over, ready to line his aching cock up with your sopping pussy.

You whimpered when he roughly spread your legs with his knee, your hands still cuffed securely behind your back as your face met cold glass.

Gojo cursed as he eased himself into you. “So fucking tight, shit.” he groaned, fucking sloppily into your pussy with no mercy. His painfully hard cock begging for a release ever since he sat you on his lap.

Gojo’s hand reached up in your hair, pulling you up against him as he slammed into you. Your back arching against his chest with a loud mewl. Gojo watched as your ass bounced with each hit of his hips, your head thrown back onto his chest as you filled the room with high pitched moans.

Your pussy clenched when he brought his hand to your tits, fumbling and groping at the soft flesh before twisting your nipples between your fingers. Pulling out a cry from you at the sensation. Gojo’s pace never slowed its abuse to your tightness. Bullying his cock deeper inside you with a string of grunts.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room, your loud cries mixed with Gojo’s grunts as he tugged at both your nipples and your hair. You could feel his tip grazing into your walls with each of his harsh thrusts onto your ass.

Your breaths getting heavy as you neared yet another orgasm. “Nn—nnhg, f-fuckk.”

“Language.”

You trembled with a scream of pleasure, clenching down on the white haired man’s cock as he breathed into your neck with deep throaty moans.

You let out whimper after whimper, your legs feeling like jelly as your knees buckled. “Hahhh— nng, close. Ah- ‘m close.” feeling the pressure on your gummy spot intensifying greatly. “A-ahh— nnh, cumming,” you mewled, lips parted in whiny noises as you came.

Gojo groaned, “Shit- clenching down so hard on me. Gonna break my fucking cock sweetheart.” his thrusts lacking any rhythm as he too neared his orgasm. “Come on, fuck, give it to me.” he rasped.

Your eyes rolling back as you gripped onto his shirt through your handcuffs. Your short moans matching his thrusts as your pussy gushed messily around him.

“That’s it.” he dragged out, slowing his thrusts until he was pulling out of your drenched cunt. Pushing you down onto your knees by your shoulders, “open.” Stroking his cock lightly when you obeyed and spilling onto your awaiting tongue while watching you swallow. “Good girl.” as he steadied his breathing. “She’s all yours,” he said to Nanami.

Your eyes moving behind the tall man to find Nanami sat on a chair with his cock in hand stroking to the sight. And Choso leaned onto the gray walls with his shirt in between his teeth as he did the same as Nanami.

“Come here.” Nanami husked. And you stood on shaky legs to waddle over to him. Your eyes widening at his massive cock, its girth the size of your wrist and its length the same as your forearm. Noticing your hesitation, Nanami chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

His hands found their way onto your hips as he guided you over his lap. A scared whimper falling past your lips when he lined you up with his rock hardness.

“Look at me. You can take it okay? Just be a good girl and relax.”

You sucked in a deep breath and nodded, wincing loudly as he sunk you down onto his cock. Your pussy aching at the stretch to let him in. “Ahh-“ you cried, small tears escaping your eyes as he bottomed you down onto him. Feeling his tip poking against the skin of your stomach.

“Holy shit.” Gojo whistled, “She’s fucking bulging.”

You mewled, looking down to see the outline of Nanami’s tip in your belly. The large man simply glaring at his colleague who only smirked.

Large hands held onto your ass, whispering soothing praises into your ear as he helped you grind up and down with the rocking of your hips. You began moaning as the pain slowly subsided. Pleasure filling your veins as Nanami made you ride him faster bit by bit. Feeling the veins of his cock grazing your sensitive walls with each movement.

You let out a string of loud cries, your hips arching when Nanami landed a slap to your skin. “You’re a real good girl, you know that? Obeying the men of the law. You’re a perfect one.” He groaned.

Gojo sat on the table behind you, his camera zoomed into the stretch of your pussy from the back. Nanami unknowingly spreading your cheeks to give off an even better view.

Choso’s cock prodded at your lips, his precum smearing onto your lips.

“Kamo. Don’t wanna save that for her pussy?” Gojo questioned, Choso shaking his head no with a desperate moan. “Uh uh, love her mouth too much.” Your lips parting to suck him into your throat with a hum.

Choso groaned, thrusting lightly into your mouth, his length throbbing when your tongue suckled at his tip. Nanami quickened your pace of rutting on his cock. Your noises drowned out by the youngest officer’s cock.

Your pussy clenched impossibly tighter. Creamy white covering his cock from top to bottom. Your pussy creaming his length with your clit being stimulated by its rubbing on the region near his base.

Gojo made sure to capture it all. Choso fucking into your throat and you milking Nanami’s cock. With mic picking up Choso’s moans and Nanami’s deep grunts.

Your body trembled, body filled with heat as you came undone. Whimpers bubbling in your throat and your eyes rolling back. The sound of your cuffs shaking entering your ears when your fists gripped literal air.

“Come on.” Nanami groaned, “Cum for us.”

You let out a silent breathy cry, your pussy spraying its cream filled liquid onto the man’s thighs and pants.

Choso followed not too long after you, finding it in him to force you to take all of him into your mouth with a gag before pumping his cum straight down your throat. Some of his cum spilling messily at the sides of your lips when he removed himself from the warmth.

Nanami rolled you onto him a few more times, his cock twitching within the depths of your cunt before effortlessly lifting you off of him and settling you closer to his knees. Giving his large cock a wrist circling stroke before his cock was releasing spurts of cum into the air and onto your tits and stomach with a dragged out groan.

The three of you panted, Gojo setting down his phone after saving the video to his eyes only then walking over to you with a key to remove your handcuffs. You fell forward as your body went limp, your palms feeling Nanami’s hard chest under his work shirt as you stabilized yourself.

The white haired man pressed a short kiss to your head. “Did so well.”

After helping you get cleaned up, the trio walked you out of the room. A slight limp in your step as you were brought into the main room. There you spotted Toji, who practically charged towards you. Slapping Choso’s hand off your waist and pulling you into his side. “Don’t touch my girl.”

Choso only walked away before giving you a look. And you sucked in a deep breath before you spoke, “Toji-“

“Before you say what you have to say baby, they charged us for robbery.” Kissing you softly on the same spot Gojo did. “Got any money to get us out of this.”

Just as you were about to speak, a voice echoed through the room. “Y/n L/n? You’re free to go.”

You gave Toji a tight lipped smile while scratching at your arm. “Sorry Toji.. i don’t have any. And since i didn’t do anything wrong i don’t see why i should be kept either.”

Toji looked at you in disbelief. A smirk eventually gracing his face. “Didn’t think you had that in ya.” Watching as you were escorted out by a blond officer who didn’t even spare him a glance.

He would have to use his one call on one of his recent flings to pay the fine.

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chocum · 4 months ago

Text

KARMA !

— brat taming the jjk men feat. choso kamo, kento nanami, toji fushiguro.

WARNINGS. femdom!reader, f!reader (she/her), brat taming, cock slaps, crying, handjob, choking, p in v, riding, overstim, lingerie, lollll slotted toji out :33, recording, finger sucking. ( 2k ) note. hellloooooo hope u all enjoy this. i had fun writing bc i loveee the idea of making big strong men crumble mhmhmhm. anywaysss reblogs are appreciated thank youuu love u all. repost bc last night it didn’t show in the tags 💔 but i edited it and added alottt so if you already saw it feel free to read again !! ty

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 CHOSO KAMO

“ma— make m— ooohh fuck. wai—wait” his voice trembled so cutely that it was barely coherent, crumbling into a pretty whine that drowns out his pathetic attempt (if you could even call it that) at being a defiant little brat, making you giggle, your slicked up thumbs pushing and rubbing down on the slit of his leaky tip, sending jolts of pain masked as pleasure up his bony spine, “make you?”

immediately he knows he’s fucked up. the air between you growing thick.

he didn’t know what came over him, really. maybe he had been watching too much porn, fantasizing too much, because the idea of getting tamed by you— god, just the thought of getting put in his place, turned him on so much. so, so much.

but having to actually disobey you, he couldn’t. he believes he was only put on this earth to serve you and please you. to be good. his head hurriedly shakes side to side, making each strand of ravened silky hair jump and dance before resting to frame his flushed face, “‘m sorry didn’t me—”

you land a heavy, hard slap to his cock, the sound pounding in his flushed ears blending with the beat of his heart, making his body tense up and jerk underneath you. his breaths come out in ragged little gasps, each one such a struggle as his fuzzy brain short circuits under your warm palms.

it really is cute, you think. cute how easy it is to break him. the pretty tears that drip down his puffed-up, blushed cheeks remind you of that. he’s choking on his sobs when you move to cup his face and kiss the corners of his eyes, and his cheeks. crying and sniffling because he hates when you’re mad. hates disappointing you.

“‘m sorry, i don’t— just wanna be so good for you. i’ll be— wanna be your good boy.”

“i know,” you coo, petting him like the pretty pet he is, “wanna try again for me, hm?”

and oh, he’s nodding so sweetly, cock throbbing for you, his big glassy eyes heart-shaped, staring up. so ready to be yours, ready to be the good boy you’ve trained him to be.

so you tell him again, “fuck my fists, make yourself cum, pretty boy. and look me in my eyes.”

his hips buck up, the salty tears on his cheeks warming and dried as he uses your sticky hands like a fleshlight, whining prettily when you tighten your grip around him, “‘m sorry” he babbles over and over, drooling out the corners of his parted puffy lips.

he’s so good. staring into the blown pupils of your pretty eyes without fault, like you told him to. because you told him to.

and his thighs burn, his legs shaking and trembling against the silky sheets as he gets closer and closer. the pain almost urging him on, “are you gonna cum for me? baby? gonna give it all to me hm?”

“yes, ple— please. please, can i cum can—”

you pull your hands off him.

drawing out the prettiest whine to ever be heard. like a song of the angels. his head falling back against the wooden headboard, hips bucking up in search of something to ease the ache that overwhelms in his tummy. those hot tears making a special reappearance.

“aww baby,” you hum, feigning sympathy, massaging his warm— full, heavy balls, “did you really think you’d get to cum after that, hm? did you?”

his eyes widen in desperation, disappointment. he tries to speak, to plead, to beg, but all that comes out are broken little sobs and whimpers.

the look on his face is almost pitiful. furrowed brows, pout, and his mouth hangs open.

you bend to lean in closer, your breath so warm against the shell of his sensitive ear, “you have to earn it, baby. good boys get rewarded. brats get punished.”

for you, he nods weakly, his voice barely a whisper as he chokes, “i’ll be so good, pro— promise. please, let me cum. let me show you how good i am”

so pretty. your fingers slip down to massage his aching balls, applying just enough pressure to keep him on that edge he loves to dangle over without giving him the sweet, sweet release he craves. “nuh uh, not yet,” you hum softly, your tone both firm but oh so gentle. “show me how much you want it.”

his hips buck up involuntarily, humping the air in search of your grip— relief, eyes locking onto yours, colored irises filled with adoration. he’s completely at your mercy, every nerve and ending in his body on fire, every muscle tensed up in anticipation.

and you can see the struggle in his eyes. it’s really a beautiful sight, and you savor every moment of it. “that’s it,” mumuring, “keep looking at me like that. show me how much you need it.”

his breaths come in short little, ragged gasps, his chest heaving and caving, thighs burning from fucking the air.

but finally, after what feels like an eternity, you decide to grant him some mercy, your hands moving back around his throbbing cock, stroking him just how he likes it, “cum for me, pretty boy,” you command, a soft, seductive purr. “give it all to me.”

with a strangled, gargled cry, he obeys. his body convulsing, every muscle tightening as he finally, finally finds his release, his cum spilling all over your hands in thick, hot, sticky spurts. and he’s so obedient, his eyes remaining locked on yours, even as his vision blurs and fuzes with pleasure.

“there you go,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “such a good boy.”

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 KENTO NANAMI

the tie that usually wrapped snug around the collar of nanami’s shirt adding that signature pop of yellow to his suits now decorates his flushed neck, constricting it, the tail of it clutched tightly in your fists as you ride his cock, your hips rolling and jerking against him relentlessly.

thick cum drips down to his balls, pooling underneath him, a swirl of your mess and his. he’s cum two–no, four? he doesn’t even know how many loads he’s stuffed into your warm cunt— or how many you’ve forced and sucked out of him, his cock so sensitive it fucking hurts, every time you snap back down on him sending poky jolts of overstimulation through his entire body.

“fu—fuck, honey, please. i don’t have— ngh— don’t have anything left to give. fuckin’ drained me already— can’t—”

you tug on the silky fabric, making him choke on his words, gargling on warm, foamy spit. his hands reaching to grab at the curve of your waist, but he’s flinching, remembering how you said, no touching. remembering why he’s in the position in the first place.

because he doesn’t listen.

refused to keep his hands to himself, your body begging to be touched, in his words. as if he didn’t take you seriously, just kept grabbing at you, digging his slim fingers into your plush skin.

so, obviously, there’s some sort of misunderstanding .. some sort of disconnect. he must have forgotten who was in charge.

you don’t even give him a response, ignoring the prickly burn in your thighs to fuck him dumb. maybe then, ironically, he’ll learn how to act. each jerk of your hips move to push him further to the edge, to remind him of his place.

his body is weak, just sitting pretty, twitchy, letting you do as you please, sweetly hiccuping under your frame, “hah— please, my fucking god i— i’m sorry” he’s all gone and sucked up, cock crying, drooling pathetic tears of salty cum in your cruel walls. sweat peppering his forehead, slicking the ridges of his chest, making him glisten.

“please, i’m fucking begging i’ll— hah, won’t disobey you again. i’ll— i’ll be good. i’ll be yours”

aw, there it is.

and you hum, stilling your hips, letting his cock fill you all the way up, “mhm that’s all i needed to hear. now give me onee more load. just one. know you can do it pretty boy, give it to me”

even though his body is spent, just the true definition of exhaustion, he responds, his pretty cock twitching inside you as he drags against his own warm cum in your spongy walls. and it doesn’t take long before he’s giving into you. balls so empty, just a few little spurts drooling out, but it feels just as intense, maybe even more than any of his other orgasms. “good boy”

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 TOJI FUSHIGURO

“toj’ my pretty boy” your finger draws across the pink lacy lingerie that does a pathetic job of covering his cock. poking out, leaking and drooling all over the fabric, almost ripping through it with just how hard he is, “you look so good like this”

he grunts, blush growing across his cheeks, a deep, deep crimson, turning his head to avoid your gaze, avoid your phone brightly flashing, recording him.

“so hard too, aw” mumuring, you move closer, recording every detail of how he bulges through the set you so perfectly picked out for him. the pink complementing his tanned skin so well, truly a work of art “touch yourself for me”

another grunt escapes his lips, and he’s fidgeting, dragging his balls against the bed, rutting like a fucking dog, pulling at the ropes that hold and confine him, caging him against himself, “need your ..”

“yeah, need what?” you prompt with a smile, watching through your screen how he struggles to say it, pouting as his brows furrow up.

“need your help”

theres a wicked little glint in your eyes, pulling back at the stretchy band of the pretty underwear, letting go so it snaps back against the sensitive underside of his thick cock, making him whine, his broad body shaking and twitching, muscles clenching up.

humming, you bring your palm to his face, telling him to lick, and he listens, immediately.

licking a long stripe up your warm palm, but oh, he gets carried away. stretching to wrap his scarred lips around your fingers, bobbing his head up and down, drool dripping down from around his pursed lips, letting his tongue lay flat. “look at you, so eager”

he comes off with a pop, smirking because he knows you love when he’s so good like this for you.

you press your slick fingers against his covered perky nipples, watching as he twitched, before moving to stoke him through the pretty lingerie, “don’t fu—fucking tease”

you ignore him, let him get away with the little back talk because he just looks toooo cute, eyes all big, looking up into the flash of the camera, leaking through the lingerie like such a pretty boy. all for you.

you flick your wrist faster, leaning to spit on his clothed cock, sending thousands of shivers up the nerves on his spine, making him croon, his ass raising up off the bed to buck into your palms, giving the camera such a good show.

“gonna cum, shit— i’m so close. fuck— please”

he’s babbling, his voice all high and whiney.

“mhm go ahead, baby”

with a final, desperate thrust, he’s shooting against the fabric, babbling your name as it oozes through making a sticky little mess before you’re leaning down to lap at his clad tip. to clean him up.

then you come off him, stopping the video. and tojis looking up at you through glassy eyes as you press against your phone, smiling.

“what— hah, what are you doing”

“sending it to shiu”

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